


Nine Tenths

by EmberGlows



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Blood, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, M/M, Manipulation, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, alrighty kids here's my billdip fic, content warnings for:, ill add tags as we go along with content warnings, manipulative relationships, remember this: ambiguous wording will get you a long way kids, so rating will change in later chapters most likely to m, unhealthy thought processes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-04-19 11:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4744934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmberGlows/pseuds/EmberGlows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper Pines has been hand-picked by a demon mastermind, who in turn has a certain master plan in mind. An accord is struck; but a boy can often forget just how easy it is to fall further down when you naively expect the devil to play fair.</p><p>LIMINALITY - noun.</p><p>1. the transitional period or phase of a rite of passage, during which the participant lacks social status or rank, remains anonymous, shows obedience and humility, and follows prescribed forms of conduct, dress, etc.<br/>2. the condition of being on a threshold or at the beginning of a process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Boy is Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come away little light, come away to the laughter,  
> Show yourself so we might live.  
> Come away little light, come away to the laughter,  
> To the ones appointed to see this through.  
> We are coming for you.  
> We are coming for you.

On the very last day of his stay in Gravity Falls, Dipper Pines woke up early. Mabel was babbling in her sleep across the room – “Oh Mermando, you are a mer- _fox_!” – so it was clear he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. His dressed quickly and quietly, pulling his hat off the bedside table as he headed out the door. The door creaked as it closed, as did the stairs when he descended on them.

It was strange seeing the Mystery Shack this bare. Grunkle Stan had stripped it of all the knick knacks and stuff that made the Shack – well, the Shack. Now it looked like just a regular, average, _normal_ house for Great Uncle Ford. _I don’t think I really like it_ , Dipper thought, stealing an apple from the kitchen. The clock ticked away on the wall, reading just past five.

Without even realizing he’d come to a decision, Dipper firmly pulled his hat low over his forehead and walked out of the Shack a few moments later. As he entered the tree cover of the forest, a strange hush fell. Well, it _used_ to be strange to him anyway, but now it was a welcome quiet these months later. The sun wasn’t fully up yet; only weak rays of dawning light filtered in through the boughs high above him. On he walked for over a half hour, deeper and deeper into the woods, until the beaten path had turned into a thin and winding trail. There was no need to talk; the steadily waking forest was doing that enough. Dipper heard birds twittering from nests high above, woodland rodents scurrying alongside his trek, and brooks gurgling just out of sight. A toad croaked nearby, and quite suddenly it appeared to plop down onto the path in front of him. It was a rather fat toad. Every time it drew breath, it made a wet squelching noise, and Dipper paused to crouch down and inspect it. “What are you doing?” he asked, puzzled.

The toad merely blinked. Dipper thought it looked a bit resentful as it squatted there, squelching away. “I don’t think I like your attitude, man,” he frowned down at it. It heaved what sounded like a wheeze and rolled a few inches away. Dipper sighed and sat down beside it, drawing patterns in the dirt with his fingers. “Sorry. Didn’t mean it.” He rolled the remainder of the apple to the toad as a peace offering, which eyed it blandly. Its tongue flicked out to taste it, and Dipper laughed when it heaved itself up with great effort in order to sit atop it.

All was relatively quiet for some while, and Dipper lay down beside the toad to gaze at the tree canopy high above. More light was pilfering through the branches, now brighter than before. A crowd of gnats buzzed above him a few feet away. Idly, he tossed bits of dirt and rock through them and tried to catch dust motes in his hands. “I’m going home today, Toad,” Dipper said quietly as his hands fell to the ground beside him. He glanced over. The toad blinked, and Dipper took that as encouragement to continue. “I think I like it better here, though. How about you? Any preference?”

He didn’t need to glance over this time to know that the toad had blinked. “I don’t know, man,” he continued, straightening his hat. “I just feel like I need to do something by myself, something interesting, something – Oh my God, I’m talking to a toad.” This realization came rather suddenly, and his voice cracked upon saying it. Dipper cleared his throat hurriedly and sat up, glaring down at the offensive animal. “You have no idea what I’m saying,” he told it harshly, jabbing a pointed finger near its head. “You are not a sentient being!”

However, at that last sentence, the toad suddenly drew itself up and widened its eyes. Taken aback at its apparent understanding, Dipper backpedaled. “Uh, I was just kidding, man!” But the toad’s unblinking, almost fearful gaze was fixed on a spot above Dipper’s last shoulder. _Can toads be afraid?_ Dipper wondered as he turned around. _Well, I suppose sentient ones can be._

The mass of gnats that had been floating in the air nearby had stopped buzzing incessantly, and was now silent as its occupants drew tight together, forming a… Wonky circle? _No_. Dipper heard the toad squelch off its apple and plop off the path, fleeing into the tree cover. _A triangle_.

Light from the canopy overhead suddenly shone bright and gathered into the gnat cloud, infusing the insects with a golden glow as they melted together and formed the personage – demonage? – of Bill Cipher. Bill’s colour was even more obvious and obnoxious against the tranquil background of the forest, and his brick pattern stood out brightly under his bow tie. He jauntily tipped his top hat, and Dipper was thrown sideways onto the ground as the entire world shifted. “Well, kid, all ya needed was a man in a yellow suit!” The jarring and echoing voice made Dipper wince slightly, as grey bled out from the triangle into the forest surrounding them.

“W-What?! You’re not a man,” Dipper protested, getting to his feet after the hat was back in place. The demon’s one eye flashed blue a few times in quick succession, almost as if mischievously saying _‘Not yet!’_ Bill vanished and then popped up in front of Dipper’s face in an instant, who jumped. “What do you want?”

“Specifics, kid, specifics!” A cane appeared in Bill’s hand and he twirled it idly, adopting a musing pose. “There’s so many _delicious_ ways to answer that question…”

Dipper exhaled angrily through his nose. “What do you want with _me_?” He clarified, setting off in the opposite direction Bill was hovering. The demon leisurely floated alongside him on his side, one arm propping up the side of his shape. Dipper found it very annoying that the insufferable scalene psychopath was able to so easily stay next to him, while he crashed through the underbrush and cut his exposed forelegs open.

“Still so many ways to answer!” Bill chuckled at his expression, languidly turning a few times in midair seemingly for pure spite. “Heard it was your last day, kid. I came to see you off!”

“You’re insane, and evil, and horrible. Just leave me alone, dude.” Dipper swiped his way through a particularly thorny bramble patch, and took great pleasure at the surprised yelp Bill emitted upon one branch swinging back to hit him.

“You’re forgetting whose forest this is, _Pine Tree_.” The grayscale flashed red for a moment, and Dipper precipitously noticed how the trees – which had been calm and inviting before – now seemed to be leering down at him with towering, harsh faces. _Ungrateful_ , they whispered to each other, and Dipper was forcibly reminded of the bullies at school. Wolves howled in the distance; the brambles surrounding him pricked his torso more fiercely; a gloom settled over the clearing ahead where Bill now manifested in front of him, his one eye flashing a sharp red. “Don’t be _idiotic_ enough to presume that my amused interest in you outweighs my tolerance at being ridiculed.” Bill’s voice boomed out, lower than usual, and Dipper wasn’t sure if he imagined the ground shaking as every forest animal within earshot scampered away from it. The resounding pause was tense, and Dipper’s chest heaved as he seized up, only being able to watch as Bill stared him down. A few moments later, however, Bill sighed and his eye returned to normal. His triangle shrunk a bit, and the forest began to seem inviting again. “You’re smarter than that, kid.” He grumbled in his usually-pitched voice, straightening his bow tie.

His chest stopped heaving and instead puffed up a bit in pride at that statement, but Dipper ignored it. “I won’t apologize,” he said stubbornly, and braced himself for a greater effect on the grayscale from the demon’s reaction.

Instead, Bill’s eye crinkled in what Dipper hoped was amusement. “Pine Tree’s grown some roots,” he remarked dryly with a grudging chuckle.

“That’s not my name,” Dipper muttered irritably, but Bill only laughed harder. His laugh was jarring, going on for quite some time while Dipper impatiently tapped his foot. “I don’t know what’s so funny!”

“Oh, kid,” Bill wheezed, straightening up from where he had been doubled over in laughter. A tear of mirth had leaked from his eye; he wiped it off carelessly and it flung to the forest floor, a yellow flower sprouting where it hit the ground. “You have more names then I do, best get used to it!”

Dipper sighed and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Can I leave now, man?”

If Bill had a mouth, Dipper was sure it’d be grinning right now. The demon plucked the new flower from the ground and handed it to Dipper, his arm extending a good few feet. “Soon enough, Pine Tree, soon enough!” The hand wiggled the flower so that it brushed his nose.

Scowling, Dipper snatched it away before it could make him sneeze, and stuffed it into his pocket. “Can I leave _now_?”

“Ya know, kid, they say patience is a virtue!” Bill’s hand bopped Dipper’s nose before it retreated. “Not that I know anything about those!” He laughed.

“Dude, I’ve gotta go pack and stuff,” Dipper said tiredly. He should be getting home, the others would be up by now.

Bill’s form did a weird shuddering at that statement, but it happened so fast Dipper was sure he’d imagined it. “Ah, right. You’re leaving soon, huh?” At Dipper’s nod, Bill floated a few inches higher and bobbed in place. “How about a deal then, kid?”

Dipper tripped over an exposed tree root as he scrambled backwards. “W-What? No way! I’m not making any deals with _you_!”

“Aw, c’mon now, that cuts deep,” Bill whined. “What have I ever done to you?” Upon seeing Dipper open his mouth and start to speak, he hastily continued. “Eh, don’t answer that. I know what you’re gonna say, kid. About how I,” his voice took on a startlingly well done impression of Dipper’s, filled with voice cracks; “tried to hurt my Grunkle Stan and sister! Tried to-”

“Ruin my life?” Dipper interrupted, glaring at Bill. He crossed his arms with a scowl, hating at how his voice sounded coming from the demon. “You broke your deal last time, man. That’s reason enough.”

Bill suddenly got very quiet and his eye flashed red. Dipper, realizing his mistake, gulped. “Don’t,” Bill ground out. His voice was more echoey than Dipper had ever heard it to be. “Don’t even go there, Pines. I kept my end of the bargain. I _always_ keep my end.”

Dipper frowned, starting to protest despite Bill’s demeanour. “But-”

“I promised you the secrets of the universe.” Bill cut him off swiftly, his eye slowly returning to normal. Well, as normal as the singular eye of a triangular demon could be, anyway. “And I delivered, didn’t I?”

“You destroyed the laptop,” Dipper hissed, feeling his anger bubble up. He didn’t care how vicious Bill could be if he was angered. “And then went after the Journals!”

“Ensuring that old coot would fix it,” Bill said, in a tone that Dipper feel as though he was a toddler having basic addition explained to him. “And I never said _how_ you’d learn those secrets, kid,” he went on, floating closer to Dipper so they were inches apart. One of his hard fingers poked Dipper in the chest. “If you let me _stay_ in that meatsack of yours, I’d have shown you _firsthand_ every single little thing that goes on around here in this backwater town.” He chuckled, pulling his hand back and crossing his legs. “Because let’s face it, Pine Tree, you’re tired of flipping through pages in silly, old, _inaccurate_ books. You wanna get out there and find it out for yourself!”

_Has he got a point?_ Dipper wondered, crossing his arms. “No,” he answered firmly, both to Bill and himself. “I’m leaving. No deals.”

The boy set off again through the forest, Bill floating along behind him, still in a meditative pose. “I’ll make it worth your while!” the demon sang encouragingly. A shake from Dipper’s head set him off again. “C’mon, kid, you won’t even have to do a thing!” Dipper ignored him, blowing an errant piece of hair out of his eyes while Bill continued wheedling. “Piedmont will be the most boring thing in the world after this place, huh?”

_Yeah_ , Dipper thought. _Nothing interesting happens there._ “No. It’s home,” he said firmly, walking onwards.

Bill latched onto that opening. “Home?! Pah! Nothing’s there for you, Pine Tree! It’s all here! And, you never know, if I don’t get a deal from you, a lot of things might be a whole kid of _different_ here than usual.”

Dipper stopped in his tracks at that. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked the demon, annoyed at the note of slight panic in his voice that slipped out.

Shrugging, Bill floated in place. “I bore easily, sapling. Who knows what I could get up to? Taking away all the anomalies, maybe. Death, destruction, more likely.”

“Y-You don’t have any control in this world,” Dipper protested. _Right?_

Bill laughed harshly. “I got to make a deal with you, kid, and you’re actually _smart_! Imagine me with free reign over some of the idiots in this place, eh?” He let out a happy sigh at that, his eye fluttering closed at the thought. “Ahh, just imagining it now.”

Against his better judgement, Dipper was imagining it too. Lazy Susan, Wendy, Soos… Heck, he’d probably get Tyler Cutebiker, and with him as the new mayor? Dipper would be leaving Gravity Falls in the hands of a maniac. “Not my town, not my problem,” Dipper muttered, not looking up at Bill and choosing instead to pick at the skin around his left thumbnail.

“We both know you don’t believe that, kid,” Bill said smugly, appearing on Dipper’s hands. Dipper jumped back, flinging him off. “Won’t you do this old triangle a favour and make a deal?” Bill asked, batting his eyelid rapidly.

Dipper worried at his lip. “What did you have in mind?”

Bill’s eye crinkled in glee. “It’s simple, really, if you show some manners!” He paused, seemingly for dramatic effect.

With a sigh, Dipper gave in and asked again through gritted teeth, “ _Please_ , Bill. What’s the deal?”

“So glad you asked! Now, you piddle along back off to wherever that place is called-”

“Piedmont,” Dipper cut in with a mutter.

“No interruptions!” Bill drew himself up to a greater height as he continued. “And you promise me to return here next summer. Safe, and of sound mind.”

Dipper blinked. “What? That’s it?”

“Yep!” Bill sang, popping the ‘p’.

“What’s in it for me?” Dipper asked, frowning now.

The demon seemed genuinely happy with that question, and laughed boisterously, his free arm elongating to pat Dipper’s head. “Oh, Pine Tree! Nice to see how corrupted you’ve become!”

Scowling, Dipper shrugged off the hand. “Answer the question, Bill.”

Bill shrunk his hand back with a snort. “I’ll show you all the secrets of the universe. Aw now, c’mon kid, no need for that-” He continued hastily at Dipper’s protestations. “I’ll show you secrets the way we both know you’re meant to see them. _And_ , without inhabiting your body this time. I promise!”

Dipper thought it over. “No out of body experience, huh,” he mused aloud quietly, rubbing his chin. “I won’t be trapped in the Mindscape?”

Vibrating eagerly in what looked like a sort of nod, Bill confirmed it. “Definitely not a repeat of last time, kid! No bringing you anywhere you don’t wanna go!”

But Dipper shook his head. “Ehh, I don’t know, man. I don’t trust you.”

“Oh, my dear, sweet, little Pine Tree.” Chuckling darkly, Bill held out his right hand, now covered in crackling blue flames. The fingers wiggled impatiently; enticingly. “You shouldn’t.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Dipper took it, closed his eyes, and shook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Uq-awEc_-Y
> 
> Very heavy references to a certain piece of literature in the beginning! Kudos to YOU if you get it :D
> 
> If anyone's interested, I'm looking for a beta! Otherwise, feel free to kudos, comment, etc. or inbox me; my personal blog is emberglows.tumblr.com :)


	2. A Boy Shakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And if you fall  
> And if you fall  
> Hold my hand  
> It's a long way down to the bottom of the river  
> Hold my hand  
> It's a long way down  
> A long way down

Even though Dipper didn’t feel himself being yanked upwards and dissolving from solid form, like how it’d been last time he made a deal with Bill, he still felt quite apprehensive as he opened his eyes. He did a quick once-over check of his limbs and senses, but everything seemed to be in order. Bill chuckled, noticing, and Dipper snatched his hand away.

Bill clapped his own hands together. “Right then!” he said briskly. “Collateral is in order, don’t ya think?”

Surreptitiously, Dipper wiped his hand off on his vest. “That wasn’t part of the deal, Bill,” he ground out.

“Aw kid, take it as a sign of good _faith_ ,” he continued, getting a chuckle out of the word choice. “You give me an object, I give you something too; we’re square.”

Dipper ran a hand over his eyes, suddenly tired of dealing with the demon. _He already roped me into a deal. I just wanna go home._ “Yeah, sure. Fine. Whatever. What do you want?”

“Oh, lots of things,” Bill sighed almost longingly in a distracted sort of way, circling around Dipper at a rapid pace. He finally paused by the boy’s hat, then tapped it with his cane after a thoughtful moment. “Mhm! That. Gimme that!”

A bit dismayed, Dipper took off his hat but clutched it tight in his hands. He felt disengaged from the situation, numb all over. “Really?”

“Pay up, kid.”

Swallowing, Dipper tore his gaze away from the blue and white cap to look Bill straight in the eye. “What’s my collateral, then.”

There was a strained pause, then Bill let out a dark sort of chuckle. “So glad you asked.” His hand reached up and plucked off his bow tie, holding it out to Dipper. “Happy?”

“No,” Dipper answered truthfully through his surprise, grabbing the tie and stuffing it into the same pocket from before. At Bill’s impatient throat clearing noise ( _Did he even have a throat?),_ Dipper sighed and dropped the baseball cap into his clutching hand after a final fond stroking of his thumb across its top. His head felt strange without the familiar fabric there, and he ran his fingers through his hair a bit self-consciously. “Can I go now?”

“Of course!” Bill answered jovially, twirling the cap around a finger. “I’ll be watching anyway.” The offhanded comment set Dipper’s heart to ice, and the triangle had the audacity to chuckle, knowing exactly what he was doing. Bill snapped the hat up and tucked it inside his form, the triangle shape flashing gold for a second at the contact before it disappeared. “You won’t regret this, Pine Tree!”

“I already do,” Dipper muttered scathingly, turning his back to the demon and walking away. _I can’t believe this._

“Heh. Mazel tov!” Bill called after him. Puzzled at that, Dipper spun back around only to find the demon to have disappeared, and the forest now its regular colour again.

The boy walked for about five minutes, delaying the inevitable. Eventually, his shocked numbness wore off and panic started to set in, the blackness edging his vision even more frightening than the greyscale had been. Soon enough, Dipper felt it overwhelm him and collapsed to the ground, breathing as heavy as though he had just run the length of Oregon, but no oxygen coming through.

 _He’s watching, always watching you. Don’t show weakness!_ Dipper took a shuddering breath, running hands through his newly uncovered hair as he tried to regain some semblance of control. _You made a deal. Idiot._

 _I had to!_ A smaller voice inside his head pleaded. _He threatened everyone else!_

The stronger voice quieted eventually at that, but Dipper still felt it. Still felt it waiting. Dipper kept breathing, until slowly the black edges faded away. He became aware again of the sod under him, the now bright sunlight pilfering in through the tree cover. Sounds came back then, and at the croak of a hidden toad, he finally got up.

 _You’re fine_ , he thought firmly, brushing the dirt off his shorts. _You’re fine, you’re f-_

He stopped in his tracks. His head was starting to hurt as he stopped the mantra.I’m _fine. No ‘you’, stupid. It’s ‘I’. I. Am. Fine._

The shadows and bushes might have looked a bit more triangular as Dipper made his way back, but he managed to almost shake off the sense of foreboding – resolving to tuck Bill somewhere out of sight, to be dwelled upon later – and finally reached the Shack, headache not lessening.

***

The goodbyes had been hard. Great Uncle Ford was trying to be reserved, but it was pretty obvious they’d be missed. He invited them back next year, and the twins said they’d think about it. _Not much thinking you’ll have to do about that_ , Dipper’s harder voice told him sarcastically. He told it to shut up.

Grunkle Stan didn’t have the invitation to return extended by his brother. He had already sold what he could, and packed up everything else into the El Diablo. “Gonna visit Santiago about some pugs,” he answered gruffly when Mabel had asked him where he would go. The two brothers shook hands, and Dipper felt a sudden, startling, inexplicable moment of déjà vu.

Mabel said goodbye to her girlfriends – Dipper noted that the usual amount of whimpering and sobbing was present. Of all people, Pacifica showed up and hugged both of them, her undercover headscarf and sunglasses in place. With a tearful yet determined expression, Mabel gave Waddles to the blonde, who accepted him a bit surprisingly.

Soos was blubbering, clutching onto a visiting Melody as the twins stepped back from his tight hugs. Wendy and the rest of the teenagers were there, too. At Wendy’s own embrace and hair ruffle, Dipper thought he should feel… something. But all he felt was miserable.

They left the small gathering then, Grunkle Stan driving them to the bus stop. Dipper glanced back as they sped off down Gopher Road, and saw everyone waving goodbye. He felt a bit sick, so turned back around without returning the gesture as they rounded a bend that sent the Shack out of sight. The car idled for a moment in the parking lot beside the bus terminal, none of them knowing what to say.

“Well.” Stan finally mumbled.

“Well,” Mabel repeated softly. Dipper sighed.

“You two keep outta trouble,” Stan said brusquely, turning back in his seat to pat both their heads. A crisp hundred bill fluttered into both their laps.

“I always wanted that raise!” Mabel chirped, grinning weakly.

“Heh, yeah… Just don’t spend it in Oregon,” Stan advised as an afterthought, quite seriously. Dipper had a feeling this was a copy of the counterfeit money they had all made together earlier that summer. The old man turned to Mabel, whose brown eyes were shining with unshed tears. “Stay together.” He met eyes with Dipper next, and the look shared was full of unspoken words. “Take care of her.”

The twins nodded in unison, and got out of the car. “Say hi to Al and Annie,” he said in a gruff voice that seemed forced, and Dipper thought he looked sad as the window rolled up. The El Diablo sped away, and the twins held tightly onto their belongings, both feeling just as lost as they had at the start of summer.

Their bus came quickly after that, and they got on with little trouble. Dipper looked a bit hopefully at the driver, but it wasn’t Soos this time. Mabel was holding her own pretty well until they passed the town sign. Some of her tears shed at that, and with a nod, Dipper gathered her up in his arms.

“We’ll be back, won’t we?” she asked tremblingly, voice muffled by his vest.

“We have to,” Dipper answered, quite truthfully. The hard voice in his head chuckled at that.

Mabel, however, took this as a sign of celebration. “That’s the spirit, bro-bro!” Shakily, she wiggled out from the hug and dried her eyes. “And everything’ll be fine again, right?”

Dipper paused. Mabel looked so hopeful. _Take care of her._ “Right, Mabes.”

The time passed quickly as they trundled along, tall trees blurring more and more as the hours went on and his gaze glassed over from the monotony. _You’re looking at pine trees_ , he thought idly as they passed by, but then frowned and shook his head, the highway coming into focus again.

_No. I’m looking at conifers. Not pine trees. Never pine trees._

Their bus was close to empty, so Mabel stretched out across their few seats and fell asleep around the time they left Oregon four hours later, her head on Dipper’s lap. Sighing, Dipper noted the “Welcome to California” sign whip past.

Bored an hour later and wanting to distract himself from the panic that was slowly creeping back into the periphery of his thoughts, Dipper stooped so low that he started to do practically the unthinkable for him – personal grooming. First he ran some fingers through his hair, then brushed down his clothes, and turned out his pockets. Gum wrappers, lint, flow- oh. Right. Feeling sour now, Dipper pulled out the flower that Bill had given him. His harder voice made itself known by laughing at that, but Dipper only felt himself getting mad and made to rip it up.

“What’s that, Dipping Dot?” Mabel’s quirky voice interrupted his action, and Dipper’s hands paused. His sister was waking up now, stretching and looking up curiously at the flower held above her face. “Is it for me?”

“No!” Dipper said, too loudly. The few other passengers glanced over in alarm. Dipper cleared his throat and smiled at them apologetically while Mabel rolled her eyes and sat up beside him.

“Lemme see it, stupid,” she laughed, deftly picking it out of his grasp. Dipper sat on his hands, trying not to freak out. Mabel squinted and twirled its stem, looking at the spinning petals. “Marigold!” she declared, holding it out with a flourish. Dipper hurriedly snatched it back and stowed it again in his pocket. “Where’d you get it, Dippiter?”

“Forest,” he answered gruffly, sitting on his hands again.

Mabel looked puzzled. “I don’t think that breed is native to Oregon. Maybe it’s an invasive species?”

Dipper couldn’t help but snort at the irony. “Invasive species, for sure.”

Shrugging, she pressed on, this time in a teasing tone. “Why’d you pick it? Forgot to give it to Wendy?”

“Nah,” Dipper answered, managing to roll his eyes at her comment. She giggled. “Just saw it, thought it looked… nice.”

“Well, that’s cool,” Mabel laughed, pulling out her iPod. “I wouldn’t give it to anyone personally, though. It’s not a very nice flower.”

“Huh?” But Mabel had popped in her ear buds and was already bopping along to a loud synthesized pop song from a few decades ago, so didn’t hear him. Dipper frowned, and stared out the window.

As they pulled into Piedmont hours later, his pocket felt heavier with the weight of a flower and a purposefully ignored bow tie.

***

It was strange coming back here after months away.

Their parents had picked them up from the bus station, and the next few hours had passed in a flurry of hugs and chatter and dinner and belated birthday presents, until Dipper was dumped into his and Mabel’s room. His sister had flopped onto her bed, still clothed and not bothering to unpack, mumbling a ‘good night’ before falling right asleep. Dipper, however, slowly put his belongings away, and wondered why it all felt so strange.

 _The air smells different here to you_ , he thought as he was folding a pair of shorts. _That’s it._ He nodded along to the reasoning thoughtlessly. It wasn’t really a lie, after all; the Pines’ residence was modern yet tasteful, and smelled of the floral cleaning supplies and different candles lit there. But he found himself longing for the mustiness and almost mildew-like, ripe smell of the Shack, for its haphazardly placed objects that he always managed to stub his toe on, and its constantly creaking floor boards.

Streetlights flickered on outside the window, and he moved to close the blinds for the night. Their light was far too yellow for his taste. Which reminded him… He sighed and pulled out the flower from his pocket, staring at it in disgust. Shouldn’t it be crumpled by now? Wilted? It looked as though he had just picked it. Crossing to his wardrobe, he pulled open a bottom drawer and tossed it in angrily. After taking a moment to steel himself, he pulled out the bow tie as well from his pocket, and quickly threw that in too. The fabric had been in his hands for mere seconds, but was he imagining it – or had it left a burning sensation? Dipper looked at his hands, trying not to panic, but the only thing wrong with them seemed to be how badly they were shaking. Hurriedly, he strew some clothes atop the items and slammed the drawer shut.

Mabel started awake at that, blearily squinting through the almost dark room at him. “Dip? You okay?”

 _Say you’re fine,_ he thought quickly. _Take care of her._

“Fine,” Dipper assured her, smiling weakly. “Just unpacking.”

“Go to bed, weirdo,” she groaned, burrowing her head under a pillow. “It’s late, get some sleep.”

“Soon,” he responded, gnawing at his bottom lip. _Don’t worry. You’re fine_ , he told himself.

…Did he tell himself that? Everything was getting so confusing after shoving that stupid flower and bow tie away.

Was it clear that it was confusing? Or confusing that it’s clear?

Too much yellow in the room, far too much, he decided as an answer to those questions. He went to close the blinds but stopped once he realized he had already shut them.

 _You’re just tired_ , he thought firmly, nodding along.

With a groan, he shook his head instead, hard, as if trying to get rid of swimmer’s ear.

 _I’m tired._ I _am tired._ He concentrated, wondering why he was arguing with himself. It seemed silly to argue with himself.

“Need to sleep.”

_Do you?_

_I do. Mabel’s right._

Surprisingly, his head felt clearer at that. Mabel turned over on her bed, so that her back faced him. Yawning, Dipper changed into his pajamas and crawled under the covers, suddenly heavy eyelids shutting almost instantly.

“Good night,” a soft voice crooned from Mabel’s side of the room. Or had anything spoken at all?

Clear confusion; confusing clarity.

“Night, Mabel,” he breathed back anyway, before the throes of sleep lulled him away from reality.

His dreams were dark that night, shot through with strings of light-coloured thread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AeR7zo2zfKM
> 
> A wild update appeared!!
> 
> I profusely apologize for not having this updated sooner. I felt really bad, but personal things happened and being a full time student forcefully took priority for a while, just.... Ugh -_- Anyway, better news: Things have thankfully settled down for now (somewhat) and I've hammered out a general map-out for the rest of the story, AND am underway on the next chapter, so updates /should/ be quicker now!!! Hint: things will start to get darker now *rubs hands together and cackles evilly* ;)
> 
> In addition, with the new episodes that were released between the chapter releases - it's kinda obvious that this story will officially be an au now! The official eps are getting sooooo good.... Tbh it kinda discouraged me for a while when I was writing this chapter, but at one point I just figured "I don't mind it has non-canon elements, hopefully my readers won't too!" Enjoy the next few eps, everyone, it's gonna be a wild ride! :P
> 
> So: Thank you so much to everyone who gave kudos and comments, it really means a lot to me and is helping me to get through with this fic! ^-^ Every click is appreciated, more than I can say <3


	3. A Boy is Cut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stupidly think you had it under control  
> Strapped down to something that you don’t understand  
> Don’t know what you were getting yourself into  
> You should have known  
> Secretly, I think you knew

That Saturday, a week after being back in Piedmont, the twins were eating a pancake breakfast their mom had made. Mabel was dousing the stack on her plate with around half the maple syrup and whipped cream available. Their mother glanced over at them from the stove, and laughed at the sight. Dad glanced up from his paper and snorted, taking a huge bite of his own pancakes.

“Mm!” Halfway through, it looked as though he had remembered something. “Honey, tell’m ‘bout the b-,” he tried to get out around the pancake in his mouth, but ended up choking on it.

“Honestly, Al,” their mom chided, walking over to swap in a new pancake stack on the table. She rubbed his back soothingly in a circular motion. “Swallow, then talk.”

“The b’n- The b’ne-,” he kept coughing, gesturing wildly. With a gentle sort of sigh, Mom pushed him a glass of milk and waited for him to drink it. “The b’nei, Annie, the b’nei,” he finally managed to choke out a few gulps later.

Mom’s face lit up. “Oh! The b’nei mitzvah, you mean?” Dipper met Mabel’s gaze at that. She looked overjoyed. He must have looked confused.

Dad nodded, seemingly electing to not speak unless necessary.

“Did someone say _mitzvah_?!” Mabel chirped excitedly, holding her fork like a baton and practically vibrating in her chair.

“Well, you’re both thirteen now,” Mom began, smiling at her daughter’s reaction. “It’s traditional for you to have a bar mitzvah.”

“Bat for me! I’m actually a bat,” Mabel corrected, grinning at her brother.

“Bat _ty_ , more like,” Dipper quipped, smiling at the thought.

His sister rolled her eyes and shoved his shoulder playfully at that.

“Like I was saying,” Mom continued, laughing along. “Since there’s two of you twins, you’ll have it together, so it’s a b’nei mitzvah.”

Mabel shrieked in delight, clapping her hands and bobbing in her seat rapidly. “Oh, we’re gonna get to read in front of everyone, and sing, and light candles, and have a party, and I’ve gotta make a new dress, and Dipper!” She swung around to face him, brandishing a pointing finger. “You’ll need to get all fancy.”

He held up his hands in a placating manner. “Yeah, I know,” he said, grinning lopsidedly.

Their parents interrupted them at that, explaining to them about extra study sessions needing to be done at their temple, and all the things that needed to be done. The date was sent for a month and a half later.

“Yes, Mom, I’ll shower the day of,” Dipper grumbled good-naturedly, receiving a blown kiss in return as she collected the dishes. _This’ll be fun!_ He thought excitedly, while Mabel laughed along to their Dad recounting his own ceremony.

 _Ha. We’ll see_.

Dipper jumped, and the plate he had been handing across the table to his mother slipped through suddenly numb fingers. It dropped onto the edge of the table, teetered, and then smashed onto the floor. Hurriedly, he burst out an unending stream of apologies to a now concerned family, and dove under the table to pick up the china pieces.

It’d been days since he’d heard that other voice. He’d almost managed to completely convince himself that he’d just imagined it.

_You wish, huh?_

His hands clenched as he tried to quell the panic slowly waking up in his chest, and hissed when he felt a sharp pain against him palm.

“Dip,” Mabel said in concern, her face appearing before his as she knelt down beside him. Gently, she unpeeled his tight fingers away from the shard of porcelain, and tipped his hand so that it clattered to the floor. “You okay?”

Before the question was even out, Dipper had laughed once and was nodding. “Y-Yeah! Sorry, I’m such a klutz.”

“I’ll say, son!” His dad poked his head under the tabletop inquisitively to inspect the scene. Mabel didn’t look appeased, but Dipper shrugged her off gently as their mom came into view as well.

“Ouch!” Mom said in sympathy, taking over Mabel’s position and inspecting Dipper’s hand. “Let’s get that cleaned up, bub.” Gingerly, she tugged under Dipper’s arms and hauled him out from under the table. Her arm circled his shoulders, and she deftly steered her son away. “Clean it up, please, Al. Don’t let Mabes get cut, too.”

They entered the bathroom and, humming softly, she ignored Dipper’s protests that he was fine, hoisting him onto the marbled counter, in the same spot he always sat when she had to patch up skinned knees and bumped heads. Usually Mabel was sitting next to him, but in his current state, Dipper really noted her absence.

His mother turned away to get the first aid kit from the cupboard, and when her back was turned, Dipper desperately – unsuccessfully – tried to compose himself further.

Mom cleared her throat. Dipper’s eyes flew open to find her standing there, arms crossed and holding the kit. “So. What’s wrong?”

“P-Pardon?” Dipper stuttered out, wincing at the telltale way his voice cracked.

“You’re my son, Dipper. I know when something’s chewing you up.” She moved forward and placed the kit on the counter, opening it and flipping through it to get the right supplies. “I missed you this summer,” she confessed in a murmur, almost to herself as she uncorked a bottle of disinfectant. She soaked a cloth in it.

“I missed you too, Mom,” Dipper answered truthfully, a bit taken aback.

“My boy,” she said fondly, stroking his bangs back with a smile. He leaned into the touch, and was too distracted to notice her other cloth-covered hand swiftly move to scrub at his injured palm.

“Ouch!” He yelped, along with a muttered curse word he had picked up last month.

Mom smirked, continuing to wipe at his palm. The redness was fading away into pale pink. “Your Grunkle Stan teach you that one?” she asked in a dry tone.

Dipper chuckled, and nodded in reply. “A few others too.”

“How is Stanfo– Stanley.” Mom frowned thoughtfully. “That’ll take a little getting used to, huh? As if one Stan wasn’t enough.”

“Tell me about it,” Dipper sighed, as she took out a wrap bandage next. “They’re both good though, I guess.”

“You know…” She trailed off, biting her lip pensively. The bandage started being wrapped around Dipper’s palm, and he knew his mom well enough to realize that she was very carefully choosing her next words. “I’ve been to Gravity Falls a few times.”

Dipper stayed silent, not knowing where this was going, and tried not to wince at the tight bindings on his hand.

“…It’s pretty weird, huh?”

 _Understatement_.

The boy flinched, feeling worry start to bubble back up from where he had squashed it down. His mother’s hands paused, and he nodded hastily. “Y-Yeah. Weird.”

They had never talked about the summer’s events this past week. His parents knew the gist of what had happened the past few months, of course, but both he and Mabel had decided to keep them as ignorant as possible. Not every parent wanted to know that their children had played a major role in stopping a global apocalypse, after all.

“Baby.” Her hands cupped his gently after the bandage was neatly tied off, and she kneeled a bit so that they were at the same eye level. “We got a call from your Grunkle just before you came home. He told us that a _lot_ of things happened to you and your sister these past few months.” She held up a hand to silence his sudden protests. “He didn’t tell us that much, not for lack of me trying. But… If you can’t handle it, baby, let me know. And if this summer was too hard on you, you never have to go back to that place if you don’t want to, okay? I promise.”

Mom’s words were meant to be soothing, but all they did to Dipper was make the panic surge up with greater intensity. _I have to go back. He’ll be mad, he’ll break our deal if I don’t. That was necessary; that was non-negotiable._ “No, Mom! No. Seriously. It’s weird there, and things got a bit crazy, but I had a _great_ summer. The best summer ever!” The words tasted sour in his mouth. Well, it was almost true, anyway.

His mother hummed disbelievingly. “You get this look in your eye,” she continued, her own hazel eyes swimming with worry. “Like you’re always afraid, or something.”

 _More like always afraid_ of _something_.

Dipper managed not to flinch this time at the jarring echo in his mind. He gathered his resolve, and looked his mom square in the eye, smiling brightly even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. “I’m fine, Mom. I promise. I loved it there! I can’t wait to go back next year.”

She sighed, but pressed a kiss to his forehead in apparent surrender. “Okay, sweetheart, if you say so. You can always change your mind, though, all right?”

“I know,” Dipper laughed, feeling sick as she pulled away, and he uncrossed the fingers hidden behind his back.

There was a yelp from the kitchen, but his mother merely shrugged. Yelping was common in the Pines household whenever Dipper’s dad and Mabel were left alone. “All done then!” she announced, trimming off the edges of the bandage and putting the medical tools back into the kit.

As if on cue, just as Mom snapped the kit closed and made to put it away, Dad burst in. “Honey, Mabel’s fine, but there was still a little bit of a slip-up,” he confessed sheepishly, brandishing his own cut-up palm.

“Oh, Al.” Mom sighed patiently and reopened the kit, as her husband swayed queasily at the sight of red there on his own palm.

Dipper left and as he passed by, he wasn’t sure if he was imagining things, but the blood seemed to be setting in a triangular shape.

***

The voice was quiet for the next week or so, and once Dipper hadn’t heard it for half a month, he felt himself begin to gradually decompress and even relax again. Life was keeping him busy enough as it was.

Days were filled up enough with school now; their last year at middle school was proving to be the hardest yet in terms of workload. Dipper was chewing through at least two pens per week at the homework, and even Mabel was found to be studying hard.

The twins got a postcard from Stan who was apparently visiting a famous casino in Monterrey; a hastily scribbled hello in pink glitter pen and counterfeit postage let them know that their Grunkle’s well wishes were sincere. Ford had sent a letter as well, although his was in cramped cursive on yellow ruled paper, regretfully informing them that he couldn’t attend their celebration next month since he was planning a trip to the East Coast for his health. After their parents shrugged at that and left the room, Mabel giggled as Dipper pulled out his blacklight and revealed the hidden message, explaining that their great uncle was, in actuality, determined to find Bigfoot’s cousin in upstate North Carolina.

Weekends were for temple and prep lessons, studying Torah and singing and choosing what to perform. In spite of his reluctance to be stared at by a huge group of people, Dipper felt himself gradually start to get more and more excited for the b’nei mitzvah. This is how it’d all start! He was finally growing up.

Mabel asked him one day where his Mystery Shack hat was, almost absentmindedly, doodling on her notebook as they sat at the dining room table doing homework. He’d switched over to a black-coloured cap a little while ago, and had honestly gotten so used to not wearing the blue-and-white one that he was caught off guard by what happened next.

 _Lie_.

Dipper stiffened, forcing himself to not glance up from his algebra, and his eyes widened as his breath hitched at the return of the voice. “I left it at ho- in Gravity Falls.”

“Why?” Mabel did look up at that, her scratching pencil slowing to a stop, surprise etched on her face in a slight frown. In his periphery, he could see her glance up and down him again. She was doing that more often nowadays.

_You call that a lie?_

“I-I, uh, figured it belonged there.” He swallowed and, as nonchalantly as possible, squinted down at his correctly completed problems in faux concentration. “Do you get number seven?”

There was a beat. He could feel Mabel’s suspicious gaze boring into him, and resolutely kept his head trained on the math. She sighed. “Nah, I was gonna ask you about that one, bro-bro.”

 _Heh_.

With a chilling sort of clarity, Dipper noted that today Mabel had chosen to wear her pink sweater with the shooting star emblazoned on its front.

***

That night, Dipper couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned under the covers, feeling some comfort in how they bunched up around him like a warm embrace. When the clock struck three though, just as he was starting to drift, those same blankets started to become constricting, like a straitjacket.

_You know, only certain people need those._

His eyes flew open, and he ripped the bedsheets off of him, balling them up and hurling them onto the floor. Mabel mumbled in her sleep, and shifted so that she turned away from him.

His eyes were drawn to a certain wardrobe drawer for a moment until he forcibly tore his gaze away.

The voice was silent for the rest of the night as Dipper stared up at the ceiling for hours, detachedly watching its white paint turn a cruelly cheerful yellow as the sun rose.

But that wasn’t much solace anymore.

Apparently the voice would always came back, sooner or later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LVB2mXCTbNs (Side note: This video is so fitting with the show?! Wow.)
> 
> All right, a bit of disclaimer.... Unfortunately, I am not Jewish. However, I am so so SO behind Jewish!Pines, and noticed that not a lot of GF fics focus on this part of them. I wanted to change that! So, I have done a ton of research for this chapter (and the upcoming ones) about religious and cultural practices. (Like, I'm not kidding. A /ton/ of research. I have a Jewish real-life acquaintance who provides input on any parts relating to Judaism; I have a whole multi-page document literally outlining the exact temple the Pines would go to just outside of Piedmont, how they celebrate holidays together, the correct practices of b'nei mitzvahs, links to additional resources including Torah passages, etc.) THAT BEING SAID, I am human! So if any mistakes are made - despite that not being my intention at all - I hope nobody gets offended, and corrections would be much appreciated :) Thank you for being with me for this! Hopefully I can treat it with the respect it deserves as a part of my fic.
> 
> MOVING ON! See? I told you updates would be faster! ;P Ehhhhhh, I confess this chapter is a bit more filler, but - and take it from me, the omnipotent author - it's /very/ important filler. I'm playing this au by ear, in the sense that as more episodes come out, I'll work it in a bit. If I make any edits to previous chapters based on newly revealed canon information, I'll let you all know!!
> 
> Also, I'd like to take some time to thank everyone for all the support I've gotten on this fic :) EEEEach comment you write makes Bill p̫̤͉̱̰̗ͤ͌ͦ̍̏ọ̗͂̈̿̇̊s̅̈͑s̯̲͎̯̦͙̜̆ẽ̪̟̠͙̪̯s̗̩͕̭̈ͬͩͣs͂̀̔̐̋ this meatsack for just a bit longer so I can write chapters quicker, hehhHh!!
> 
> ...Sorry, I blacked out there for a second? Weird. Anywho, thank you all so much for your kudos and kind words! Hopefully the next chapter will be out within a reasonable timeframe as well :) I'm always a bit wary of adding OCs (technically Al and Annie are OCs? I mean, we know nothing about Mr & Mrs Pines, right?) so if anyone has more experience with that, do share! Also: If anyone has predictions or ideas of what they think should happen next, let me know!! I'd love to hear them either on here, or my tumblr, also emberglows <3


	4. A Boy Grows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We were born into a fool’s world  
> And we will die before we play the game  
> So many blows ripping apart our gentle souls  
> And l shudder, ‘cause I know what I don’t want to know
> 
> And its killing me, killing me laughter  
> Wanna wash those smiles away  
> Always killing me, killing me slowly  
> Wanna wash those smiles away

The next day, Dipper made a decision. He decided that he would ignore the voice. Not in the way he had done previously, where he would freeze up or shiver or shake his head at it; no. From now on, he would ignore it completely. It would garner no reaction from him. Let it come. He would hear it and not be panicked, he would let it through passively and be calm so that it would garner no reaction from him.

Besides, with how busy life was keeping him as the date of the b’nei mitzvah drew closer, Dipper had no time to entertain the voices in his head. Becoming “little Jewish adults,” as their dad called it, was hard work. Dipper practically thought in Hebrew nowadays. He and Mabel were studying and doing research, sometimes long into the night. Oftentimes Mabel would fall asleep while he pressed on, determined. He found that if he kept himself busy and on edge all the time, there was rarely any… _mental_ slip ups.

His parents had their own hands full, too: volunteering at the temple and celebrating Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur at the end of September, along with booking caterers and halls and whatever else made these sorts of things manageable. “This is worse than hosting _all_ of Hanukkah for your side, Al,” their mom burst out stressfully over dinner two weeks before the big day, while she examined fabric swatches in between hasty bites of salad. Dad chuckled his agreement and assured her that it’d be worth it.

The Pines had decided that the service would be tasteful, and the guest number on the smaller side. Mabel was disappointed at first that the potential more crazier aspects of the celebration would be toned down – _Ruth had a marching band announce her at her bat mitzvah, Mom, she was telling me at school_! – but soon contented herself with what they had. Dipper personally thought it’d still be too busy for his tastes. After all, the last time he’d been to a party with music and lots of people, he’d cracked open the earth and awoken zombies. He wasn’t too keen on anything similar happening.

But they pressed on, and the day drew closer and closer, and Dipper felt as if there was a clock counting down hovering someplace just above his head. Its ticks were constant, like a buzzing in his ears, and every notch brought him closer and closer to this unknown precipice. He was so close, so close to something he’d been waiting to reach. He had this premonition, a feeling that everything would change once the countdown was complete. He was already a teenager, soon he’d be a man too… Well, technically not, but in a spiritual sense? Yes.

“I don’t get all this maturity stuff, Dipping Sauce,” Mabel complained one evening, staring at her notes with glazed eyes. They were working at their desks in their room, side by side. “How can you wake up one morning and be a kid, and then the next day you’re an adult!”

“It’s from the kabbalah, Mabel,” Dipper said patiently through a mouthful of granola bar. “It technically happened on our birthday, anyway, this is just a celebration. We’re old enough to know our needs, now we’ll get introduced to a new spiritual side.”

Mabel threw her arms up in frustration. “It hurts my head if I think about it for too long. All this studying is frying my brain!”

Dipper couldn’t help but laugh at that, flicking her shoulder. “Don’t think of it as magically turning into some guru, Mabes. We just… Uh, I don’t know, it says that we just get closer to our mind or soul or whatever, and then we can seek meaning and fulfillment and stuff like that.” He frowned, then consulted his notes. “… I think.”

“You know, Dip-Dop, you should say that definition to the rabbi. It was beautiful. Worthy of song,” Mabel said dryly. Dipper snorted and shoved at her. With an indignant squeal, she sat upright and pushed back. They kept swatting at each other until their parents came in to put them to bed, and Dipper fell asleep happy that only one voice was flitting around his head – his own.

***

“Do you **feel** ready for all this, **Dipper**?”

“ **C’mon** , you’ve **been** **excited** about it for over a **month**!”

“I **know** , but it’s **just** … It’s **scary** to think **about**.”

“ **I** guess it's **just part of growing up, Mabel**          …                               _Things change_.”        

                                                                                                                                             . . . . .

_S̑͂ù̂m̃̃m̈́̀ě͘r̎͐ ̛̔.̽̄ ̓̅.̀́ ͛͑.̛̈́ ̛̀é͝n̛̾ď̿s̄̐.͆͘_

Dipper gasped and jolted awake.

_Good morning. Big day, huh?_

Why was it back? It’d been silent for weeks. Well, not silent. Radio static clung to his brain. Still, he had had the luxury of almost forgetting the chilly fingers that invaded his mind when it spoke there.

Dipper felt that old sense of panic start to bubble up into his chest. His breathing quickened, and he began to shake his head back and forth fiercely, but then forced himself to stop.

He remembered his promise to himself. Let it come. Let. It. Come.

_Didn’t think I’d miss out such a special occasion, did you?_

Gritting his teeth, Dipper glanced at the clock. It read only 6 o’clock, and he groaned. It was going to be a long day.

_You know, I’ve pulled some strings to make it… extra special._

Dipper got up and started making his bed, breathing calmly through his nose. Voices in his head didn’t have control over anything, if he ignored them.

_Just wait. You’ll see._

***

“Dipper!” His mother burst into his room.

It was three hours later now, and the twins were getting dressed. Mabel was taking curlers out of her hair and gabbing a mile a minute about how she hoped her dress would be bedazzled enough for all the pictures, but was cut off when their mother entered.

“Y-Yeah?” He managed to answer, buttoning up his dress shirt. Dad filed in sheepishly behind her, holding something in his hands. “Oh, Dad! I need my tie.”

Dad cleared his throat, a reddish tinge creeping up his neck. “Uh, about that… Funny story son!”

“Your father ironed it and then,” Mom said tersely, crossing to Dipper’s wardrobe. “Decided that he would help you put on your tie today. _However_!” She threw open its doors, and began pawing through the clothes. “ _What_ did you forget, Al?”

“How to…. Erm.” Dad chuckled uncomfortably. “How to tie a tie, as it were, Ilana dear.”

Mabel giggled loudly at that, but swiftly changed it into an unconvincing cough when their father looked at her pleadingly. Even Dipper couldn’t help but laugh once at his father’s antics. There was a strange buzzing he seemed to be hearing, though. He tried to ignore it, but it was hard.

“What else, Alon? You’re forgetting the absolute _best_ part.”

Dad coughed, just as unconvincingly as his daughter had. “Well, I had to try it on myself to understand how it worked and I kinda… leaned over a candle? So it, uh… Well, I mean, it-” He shrugged and uncovered his hands. A scorched and tattered length of fabric sat there.

“It caught. _Fire_ ,” Mom huffed, moving on to the cabinet’s drawers next. Dipper’s heart suddenly felt as though an icy hand gripped it and dragged it down into his stomach. “We need a replacement. And now we have less than an hour before we have to be at temple, and Dipper!” She slammed the top ones closed, and her hand reached for the bottom drawer. “I thought you had more ties!”

“Don’t touch that!” Dipper shouted, eyes widening. He leapt forward, pushing Mom’s hand out of the way and stood in front of the wardrobe.

The teasing chatter between Mabel and Dad cut off, and they joined Mom in looking at him in shock.

_Oof, you’ve really done it now!_

All the ‘let it comes’ in the world weren’t stopping Dipper’s ability to barely hold onto the panic that was threatening to spill over. His shoulders shook from the effort. How was he going to get out of this?

“…Dip? What’s wrong?” Mabel’s voice was full of concern, and she timidly stepped closer.

“I - I ….Uh, I…” Dipper’s nonexistent excuses couldn’t get past the stutters filling his mouth. He saw his parents share a practiced look loaded with subtext, and just knew that look had been exchanged between them many times during the months he’d been back.

_How're you ever gonna get outta this?_

“What’s in there, son?” His dad asked gently, moving forward as well. Dipper felt like a deer trapped in the headlights; claustrophobic from the people cornering him.

“N-Nothing,” he stuttered out.

“Baby,” his mom murmured, hands moving up to reach him instead. “You’re okay. It’s _us_. You’re fine. You’re okay.” He shuddered when she cupped his face and brushed his bangs gently.

Taking a deep breath, he gulped. _I’m calm. I am calm about this. Calm down. Don’t make them suspicious,_ he thought, a bit shakily, but firm in resolve. “S-Sorry,” he breathed out in a whoosh.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” Mom assured him softly, a finger tapping his temple. She always did that to him when he got too worked up and overwhelmed at all the thoughts running around, ever since he was a toddler. She used to say that she’d need to tap his brain if she ever wanted to get close to figuring out what it was thinking.

The motion grounded him further, and he took another deep breath. “I’ve just been… Stressed.” _I can get through this. For them._ “About t-today.” Well, it was almost true, anyway.

“I know how you feel, son,” his dad piped in, drawing up beside his wife. His look of concern was still lingering, but more faintly now that he thought he knew the source of the problem. “I was so nervous that I almost didn’t wear shoes to my bar mitzvah!”

Mabel came into view then, lips still pursed in a worry reflected in her eyes. She stayed silent though, and in a way that made Dipper even more apprehensive.

“What’s in the drawer, Dipper?” Dad asked, a bit more jovially. Mom pulled away and sat back on her heels, seemingly unsure of whether she should be less worried, like her husband was.

_What’re you gonna say now, I wonder?_

Dipper breathed once more, then smiled. “A bow tie.” He forced a laugh, surreptitiously garnering Mabel's reaction. Thankfully, her gaze didn't brighten in making a connection. “Guess I’m just trying to stall for time. I’m freaking out about messing up today.”

Dad guffawed at that, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Taking after your old man, huh? I tried to stall on my big day, too!”

Mom’s eyes flicked between them, but eventually she smiled. “If you’re sure, baby,” she said slowly, reaching for the drawer again. Dipper felt his throat constrict, but kept his own smile on his face and stepped aside.

In hindsight, he didn’t really know what he expected. An instant possession when his mom opened the drawer? His dad’s eyes turning into ears when he grabbed the piece of fabric? Mabel turning into a sock puppet when she gave him a hug, murmuring how she was there for him if he needed anything? No. They didn’t even comment on the flower, not noticing its hidden stem barely poking out from under a sock.

All that happened was his own mind becoming simultaneously more confused yet more clear, as the bow tie was fastened on by Dad. It seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be a mere piece of fabric. A nice-feeling piece of fabric, that made him look very handsome, if his parents’ subsequent flattering comments were any indication. He pulled on his suit jacket as Mom helped Mabel into her dress, his father’s excited laughter in his ears.

He was in a daze. It wasn’t that bad at all, was it? In fact, it seemed even _better_ than before. If that was possible. …Was that possible?

Well, his head was clear, for the first time in months. He heard no strange voice lingering in the corners, permeating his thoughts and standing off to the side, waiting. Always waiting, it had been. Waiting for his guard to slip, and then growing until his brain almost shook from its echoing sharpness. It had seemed laboured, that voice. Laboured in how much energy it had expended to keep him on edge all the time.

But now? Now his mind was blissfully… _clear_. Clear as a fresh, crisp breeze blowing through the forest at dawn. Surely this couldn’t be from the bow tie? It seemed silly. Dipper waited for the other shoe to drop; for his mind to hurt and be filled with white static noise again.

But that didn’t happen. Had he done it? Had he finally banished the voice? That jarring echo which had haunted him for weeks upon weeks? Had he managed it all on his own? He’d been afraid of some stupid piece of pointed fabric for months now. It hadn’t changed anything, though, when he put it on. He must’ve made things better, by himself. No crutch necessary. He was the one who had faced his fears, ignored the voice, protected his family. That must have been what banished the voice; himself. _He_ was in control again; _he_ was sane. He was… _Dipper_ again, a wholly and complete Dipper. The old Dipper, one who was excited and joking with his sister as this life event drew ever closer.

His head stayed fresh and clear when the Pines locked the house, got in the car, took the short drive from Piedmont to Oakland where their synagogue was. It remained calm when his parents kissed them good luck before separating to sit in the temple’s seats. Mabel’s hand was the only thing he felt as it tightly squeezed his own once, and no voice laughed annoyingly at the love and nervousness and excitement he felt when they each pulled on their new kippot and tallitot. Dipper had chosen a more traditional style, but Mabel’s was multi-coloured to match her dress.

She giggled, gesturing at the fabric now adorning his shoulders and head. “You look like Grandpa on Rosh Hashanah,” she whispered giddily. Everything was just about to start.

“You do, too, except more pink,” he laughed back softly in answer, and marveled at how this laughter wasn’t forced for the first time in a long time. He felt unpolluted, and clean, and free, and unburdened. He’d done it. He’d actually, really done it.

“That pains me! You ready, stupid?” She asked in a joking whisper, tongue poking out playfully as she threw a punch at his arm.

He faked a wince, and she rolled her eyes. “I’m ready. How ‘bout you, stupid?”

Mabel nodded with a lopsided grin, eyes bright. “I guess so. I’ve got you, after all.” Her gaze turned serious for a moment, and she grasped his shoulders. “Are you... okay though, Dipper? Don’t lie. Please.”

Dipper had never noticed how identical Mabel’s eyes were to his. “I’m a lot better than before, actually. I promise,” he added in a sincere whisper at her disbelief.

Time slowed for a moment, and he wasn't sure Mabel would listen, but then his sister finally nodded, her gaze holding no lingering signs of worry. “I trust you.” The music swelled, the singing started, and the doors were opened. “Let’s do this.”

“Here we go,” Dipper whispered, interlocking his fingers with Mabel’s again and squeezing once for good luck before separating. Feeling excited, hopeful that things would finally be all right again. Maybe he had just needed to face his fears. Maybe his adulthood was finally catching up to him. Maybe he had needed this ceremony, to help him leave childish fears behind. Whatever it was, he felt in control. Dipper was _hopeful_.

“Together,” Mabel agreed.

They entered as children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_SZTRorc2xY (Good song to gear you up for what's to come, lemme tell ya.)
> 
> All right, now we're getting somewhere, eh? ...Or are we?!?! ;) Think of this as the calm before the storm, readers, because... Oh Dipper. My smol son. I have so much planned for you. So much. <3 (I can't give away a lot, but oooooooh man. I get stressed out when I'm typing the chapters, haha!)
> 
> Also, I have this ever-growing love for Al and Annie? Idk. They've taken residence in a soft spot of mine, they're fun to write :P And again, reiterating from last chapter: Unfortunately, I am not Jewish, but am honestly working really hard to try and be as accurate as possible. If I made any mistakes, please don't be afraid to tell me!! And if anyone's confused by some terms or references I used in this chapter, shoot me a message, I will be happy to let you know :)
> 
> ( Sorry this chapter took a little while, but I had also put out an angsty Stan-centric fic I'm pretty proud of this weekend, which is here if you want to read! http://archiveofourown.org/works/5156759 )
> 
> Thank you so much, everyone, for your continued support! I appreciate every kudos, every comment & every message here or on my tumblr, more than I can articulate through pixels on a screen. Until next time! <3


	5. A Boy is Warned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kick me out and let me go  
> You don't need me, I'm an angry soul  
> Shut me out and lock the door  
> You don't need me  
> Pick up all these broken pieces  
> I have left behind  
> I left you behind

_And we left as adults, I guess._

Dipper thought the day was going great. He had been nervous, but hadn’t messed up during his parts. Even Mabel proved herself, and had done her sections with poise. After the ceremony, he and Mabel had left, excited giggles bubbling up as their shaking hands held each other tight when they ran out amidst their friends and family pelting them with the traditional celebratory candy. “I need to get some of that to eat later!” Mabel laughed, as they burst out of the synagogue into its lobby area.

There was a brief moment that they had alone, before the crowd followed them and Dipper knew they’d be swept away; he heard their excited murmurings drawing closer. Without thinking much about it, he threw his arms around Mabel and embraced her tightly, nuzzling his face into her styled hair. He hadn’t realized before now, but… It’d been a long time since they hugged.

After a shocked second of surprise, his sister then jerked her arms upwards and encircled him, too. “Whoa, what’s this?” She asked in slight shock, although her voice quickly turned teasing. “This isn’t a typical awkward sibling hug, Dipperly.”

“I just-” He trailed off, grinning, and pulled away. Mabel quirked a lopsided smile and patted his head. Dipper chuckled at that, shrugging her off fully. “I’m just really happy. We did it!”

“You’re  _happy_.” His sister sounded a little wistful at that, staring at him oddly with a gaze that reminded him of their mother. She quickly shook it off though, and her excitement returned with brightened eyes, as she did a little twirl while clapping her hands. “You’re right, we did it!” She tossed her hair over a shoulder and gave him a pout, perfected from years of watching Hollywood starlets in movies. “Do I look like an adult yet?”

Dipper snorted, shoving her shoulder playfully until her face returned to normal and they both dissolved into a fit of giggles. “Oh, man,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth once the doors were thrown open in the next second, though, and dozens of people followed them into the lobby, cheering their congratulations.

Dad was leading the pack, and made a beeline towards them. “Mazel tov, oh my children!” He laughed boisterously, clapping them both on the back so that they pitched forward a bit. Quickly, he caught hold of their shoulders and steered them to the exit. “Let’s let your mother handle these animals whilst we escape to the car, hm?”

The twins quickly nodded their agreement, not envying Mom in the slightest, who was currently stuck directing a gaggle of second cousins to the tables laden with food set up on the other side of the lobby, effectively diverting them away from her children’s hasty retreat.

“You did so well, you two!” Dad complimented as they left the temple and headed to their car in the parking lot. “Made a lot of Jews very jolly today, indeed!”

Mabel wooted at the praise, both fists raising to punch the air as she skipped along. Their father winked at Dipper, who responded with a knowing shrug, both too used to her antics. “Thanks, Dad,” he mumbled shyly, and received a jovial hair ruffle in return.

“All righty!” Dad continued on as they reached the car and slid in, Mabel still bouncing in her seat. “Once your mom escapes the trenches, we’ve got to meet the photographer at the park, then we’re all heading to the hall, and then-”

“Party time!” Mabel whooped, elbowing Dipper to join in as it turned into a chant. He laughed along. “Party time! Party time!”

Mom entered the car with a weary sigh, but perked up as the chant grew in volume now that Dad had joined in, too. “I’m so proud of you two!” She called over the noise, leaning over to give both a kiss on the forehead, tears in her eyes.

“Eh, eh, eh, none of that,” Mabel admonished, cutting off the chant to poke Mom’s shoulder as she turned back around.

Nodding, their mom wiped her eyes and laughed. “You’re right, sweetie. Okay, buckle up!” Dad started the car and pulled out.

“Pines!” Dipper spoke up loudly, blushing at Mabel’s confused gaze, but thankfully it turned understanding in an instant. “Pines! Pines! Pines!”

Chuckling, their parents joined in as the new chant increased in volume and they sped off down the road.

And even after it had died down and dissolved into excited chatter, Dipper smiled as he looked out the window to the sights whipping past. All seemed well, and his head felt even clearer than before. It still echoed in his mind, and he felt pleasantly warm, even drumming his fingers along to the rhythm. The beat was steady, as if it had been performed by older Pines in the past itself.

_Pines! Pines! Pines! Pines!_

_Pines!_

_…Pines._

***

The party was, as Dipper had predicted, loud and noisy. But he found himself not minding very much; he had Mabel, after all. It was a whirlwind of great food, dancing, singing, pictures, and being passed around distant family members to have cheeks pinched and folded-up twenties slipped into their pockets.

Their remaining grandparents were there, from both sides, as well as multiple cousins and family friends. Dipper couldn’t help but miss his great uncles, though. A few hours later, when dancing was in full swing and he was standing by the dessert table almost alone and inspecting the cake, he wondered if they’d had a similar celebration when they were his age.

_Best not to think about that, look how they turned out, eh?_

That voice had cut through the music, and he jolted up from his studying of the table. “Pardon?”

“I said, no use thinking about missing people who didn’t turn out here!” An old woman, even older that the Stans themselves, was standing next to him now, picking listlessly through some rugelach although her attention was mostly on Dipper himself. She was birdlike and frail, draped in so many shawls and wrist bangles that Dipper knew Mabel would be envious. Her dark hair was half pulled up in a hairstyle that had tried for elaborate, but ended up being more frizzy than anything else. She must be from his dad’s side; he typically didn’t recognize those relatives. For the life of him, though, Dipper couldn’t remember her name or how she was related, despite having seen her around once or twice before.

“Oops,” he said, rubbing his neck and wincing at the voice crack. “Did I say something out loud?!”

She regarded him intently, dark eyes that he assumed would be clouded over from her age actually bright and calculating. They widened as she studied him. It was a bit unsettling; reminded him of starless nights, easy to get lost in. “You remind me of  _him_.”

“S-Sorry? Who?” Dipper found himself starting to feel a bit cold, despite the warmth of the room.

“Your aura is just like his,” she went on, ignoring the question as her gaze glazed over. The woman seemed to be talking almost to herself, now, as she puzzled it out. “Strange aura. Never good. Dark gold, burned gold, always  _gold_ ,” she muttered. Her fingers were twisting together, spinning bangles around thoughtfully. “Yellow flowers, number seven, constellations…”

Dipper was definitely feeling cold now; a strange cold that was seeping from his brain down his spinal cord, clogging up all his veins and arteries. “A-Are you okay? Do you need someone?” He asked her in concern.

Her eyes locked back on his again. “I’m fine,” she barked dismissively, grabbing his upper shoulders and pulling him to her. Dipper gulped, shivering, as she brought her face even closer and stared unblinkingly into his eyes. “ _Triangles_ ,” the old woman breathed out in something akin to wonder. “Why do I see triangles?”

The coldness throughout him seemed to plummet even further in temperature at that, hardening into ice that crackled along his bones. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he gasped out.

Her gaze looked feverish now, darkened coal-like orbs darting around his face to linger on where his birthmark was covered, before meeting his eyes again in a panic. “So  _angry_ … Always there, in the stars. Growing stronger? But how… Dipper… Mabel… gematria… b-but that can’t be right? Can’t be r-right, not when, n-not when-”

“Dodah Josephine!”

The new voice startled the pair, and Dipper jumped when the old woman – Josephine, apparently – was gently yet firmly pried off him. Grandpa Shermie glanced at him apologetically, then returned his attention to the woman, whom he held securely away from Dipper. “It’s a party! You’re scaring the poor little kid.”

“He’s not a child anymore, that’s the  _problem_ ,” Josephine rasped out, a note of desperation in her voice, trying to shake him off. “Do you know what this  _means_?”

Grandpa laughed in a placating manner, humouring her. His tone continued, slow and steady as if he was speaking to a deaf person. “Yeah, it means we’re getting old, too! Come on, dodah, it’s getting late, you must be  _tired_!” Dipper noticed one of his vaguely familiar, distant older uncles step in to gently take over his position, and start to lead her away. “Your son Levi says he’ll drive you back to your hotel, okay?”

Josephine complained as she was taken away, calling back to them in a choking rasp. “Be safe, Dipper! You and your sister. Take care of her.”

The rest of the guests were starting to look at the scene, but most merely chuckled and shook their heads as the old woman was guided out of the hall, as if used to her antics. “Sorry about that,” Grandpa chuckled once she was gone, coming over to clap Dipper on the back. “You okay, kid?”

Breathing a few times, Dipper managed to finally nod. “Erm… I think so,” he laughed weakly. “W-What was that all about?”

“Bah.” His grandfather shrugged, nonchalantly adjusting the bow tie and suspenders he was wearing. “Josephine’s always been crazy. Thinks she can predict the future, believes in all that other kooky spiritual malarkey.”

“She’s your aunt, Grandpa?” Dipper wasn’t feeling as cold anymore. It was receding back from his body into his head, where it originated, and dissipating.

Grandpa Shermie nodded, reaching past him to munch on a brownie displayed on the dessert table beside them. “My ma’s cousin,” he said around the chocolate. “Both of ‘em thought they were psychics, bless ‘em. At least Ma had the sense to not let it get to her head, though. Poor dodah, on the other hand? As a kid, I never heard the end of her predictions.” He chuckled, reaching for another brownie. “Eh, she’s ancient! Over a hundred now and senile anyway, says that nonsense to everyone she meets. Her son had to put her up in a home back on the East Coast, they’re just visiting for today!”

Dipper didn’t really know what to make of all that information. “Well, as long as she’s okay,” he said, a bit uneasily.

“Seriously, my boy, don’t you worry a whit about it!” Grandpa ruffled his hair, just as a familiar traditional song started.

“Dipper!” Mabel burst in, effectively ending the conversation, breathless from her sprint to the pair from the dance floor. “What are you two doing over here? They’re starting the Horah!” She hurriedly grabbed his hand and pulled him along. “Come lift us, Grandpa,” she laughed over their shoulders as they returned to the dancing area to be greeted by cheers.

_Take care of her…_

Dipper shook off the situation, figuring he’d deal with the strange things he had heard later; he might as well just try and enjoy the celebration.

_I mean, what’s one wacky old coot know about anything?_  He thought with a scoff as he and Mabel sat on their chairs, the guests dancing around them in circles.

Soon enough, though, he forgot about that sense of foreboding entirely once the music started and the twins were lifted up into the air, laughing in excitement. His head was clear and he allowed himself to enjoy it all immensely.

***

“Get some sleep, you two. It’s been a long day.” Their mother’s voice was quiet and happy as she led the twins into their bedroom, pressing a long loving kiss to each forehead.

“We’re so proud of you!” Dad added, putting an arm around his wife’s shoulders as they left, closing the door softly behind them.

Dipper blushed, saying his thanks, while Mabel chirped: “Night, love you!” Her voice was still bubbly, but scratchy now and almost gone from all the cheering she had done that day. With a dramatic sigh, she twirled over to her bed and dropped onto the edge of it, yanking off her high-heeled shoes. “Well, that was fun, fun, fun!” Her croak still came out joyous as she tossed the shoes in the general direction of her closet, not caring when they didn’t even make it half the way there. “Eh, mister Dip-Dip-Dop?”

“Yeah, man, today went pretty well,” Dipper agreed, reaching down to untie his own dress shoes. “…Surprisingly,” he muttered under his breath as an afterthought.

Mabel was already in her sleeping shirt when he straightened up, and simply tossed her extravagant dress down onto the floor in a space between their beds, near the feet. “Don’t tell Mom,” she stage-whispered at him. “Too tired to hang it up.”

Dipper agreed with a patient eye roll, as she burrowed herself in blankets out of sight and hummed her ‘sleep well’ tiredly. He was considerably more respectful of his dress clothes; tucking in the shoelaces, hanging up the suit jacket and vest, folding the pants, undoing the shirt, untying the bow tie…

The bow tie.

He’d forgotten about that, too.

“Pft.” He exhaled through his nose in semblance of a laugh, still a bit miffed at himself for getting so worked up over some stupid piece of fabric. “Today was  _great_.”

_I was being paranoid these past weeks, all I needed was a distraction. I’m fine, I am just_ fine _._

His head, still as clear as ever, responded with an affirmative to his sure thoughts. It remained as cool and fresh as it had all day. Of course it did, though. He’d fixed it, after all.

Dipper grasped the tie, not as worried about keeping this piece of clothing tidy, and pulled it off with a scoff, letting it drop to the floor.

_There, see? Proof._

For a second, he believed it.

_…He really did._

But then. Like a dam breaking, he felt an ancient and all-powerful rushing come forth from some distant place always just beyond the reach of outstretched and desperately grasping fingers; and in the next moment he was consumed, utterly consumed, by  _static_  and  _noise_  and  _throbbing_  and pure  _pain_.

With a loud screeching cry, his hands clapped to his head – his head, now in pure agony – and he staggered backward. His feet weren’t cooperating, his mind wasn’t cooperating; he couldn’t right himself, and he tripped over air.

“Dipper?!” Mabel’s voice was one of panicked alarm.

As he fell backwards, tethered down by gravity, he could see the sheets of Mabel’s bed try to be thrown back so that she could be free; and he thought of just how apt a metaphor that was. He had thought he was safe, too, but he was trapped. Trapped in the confines of his mind, engaged in a pointless and useless struggle.

_So easy to give into despair._

Mabel’s face just managed to breach the tangled covers and her terrified eyes – so similar to his, he remembered – caught his gaze as he toppled down.

_Heh!_

_Down,_

_down,_

_d̟̜̺̙̤̕o̻͚͉͔̜͙w̳̝̦̯͓̬͠n̪̣ͅ!͚̠͚̭̹̼̞_

The edge of his scalp caught something hard halfway down to the floor.

_At least both sides of your head are in pain now, eh? Sure does even things out!_

And so he gave into that new splitting pain; and so he gave into the initial consuming agony of inside his mind; and so he let the blissful darkness take him away from his failure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l2Gz73XPIuA (*coughs delicately* Potential lyrical foreshadowing, you say?)
> 
> SWEET SARSAPARILLA WHAT A CLIFFHANGER, EH?! ;) By the way, sorry that this update took a wee bit longer, friends - I did make it longer as a peace offering though! I am officially angered at my computer; it has taken it upon itself to irk me to an inhumane degree by shutting down at 50% or higher without warning. I kept losing parts of this chapter, and tried my hardest to replicate them, but let me tell you: writing this got tiresome after awhile, especially when you're on the fourth rewrite and have to make sure nothing gets left out, since it’s all important ;) Maybe my comp's possessed by Bill? Maybe its exceedingly ancient age is catching up to it? Either way, I apologize for its incompetence!
> 
> Also, I was checking this fic's statistics, and omg people are subscribed to this story?!?! It just makes me really happy and flattered :') Yet simultaneously freaked out??? I mean, numerous people get emails sent to them when this piece of writing updates - that's never happened to me before! Bahaha, either way, thank you to everyone who is sticking with me through this and commenting and telling me, I'm sorry I repeat that literally after every chapter, but I really do mean it ^-^ Enjoy the new episode on the 23rd, everyone! (I can't believe it has Jon Stewart in it!! :D) We're all gonna die!!! <3
> 
> (EDIT: I’ve had to upload this chapter about five times now, for some reason it wasn’t showing up in the tag. If any subscribers kept receiving multiple email notifications, I apologize.)


	6. A Boy in Need of Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chasing visions of our futures  
> One day we'll reveal the truth  
> That one will die before he gets there.  
> And if you're still bleeding, you're the lucky ones.  
> 'Cause most of our feelings, they are dead and they are gone.  
> We're setting fire to our insides for fun.

When light and shapes invaded Dipper’s eyes once more, it felt as though he was trying to view them through a soupy fog. Everything was blurry and muffled; shapes were moving but indistinct. It was all so confusing, yet he had this feeling as though clarity was just out of reach yet again.

His head hurt. That was the most noticeable, the most encompassing aspect of his current sorry existence. It smarted on the outside, but was nothing compared to the agony inside his brain. Everything that manifested was simply born of his pained imagination.

He thought he might have heard voices raised in anger or alarm – Dipper wasn’t sure which – but they seemed as far away as the stars. Trying to speak was too much effort, but something he did must have grabbed the attention of the shapes, for they suddenly appeared much closer. The sounds increased in volume and the buzzing in his mind intensified to an agonizing resonance.

Was it clear that it was confusing? Or confusing that it’s clear?

But blessed blackness beckoned his once more, and he thankfully let it wrap inky tendrils around his mind to pull him under.

***

The dark, dank air smelled of copper. He tried breathing through his nose, but it was as though he was underwater; all that he inhaled was liquid. Thick, hot liquid though. That wasn’t water. He was breathing in blood. He was tasting it, too. He was enjoying it.

He dreamt of forks in his arms and giggling in his head, of his parents dying before his eyes, of Ford being sucked into the portal, of Stan burning under a pine tree, of Mabel’s sweet smiling face as claws were ripped through her.

Clear confusion; confusing clarity.

Laughter, always laughter.

Before the oceans dried up in the fiery wrath of an ancient being, he caught a glimpse of his reflection.

Yellow slitted eyes stared back.

***

Dipper awoke with a start. His surroundings were disorienting, and he felt the dull throb of a headache rear its head to roar at the sudden barrage of sight and sound.

The room he was in was bright, and overwhelmingly white, stark, and sterile. His head was buzzing, but at a lesser degree than before. He was lying on his back, on a stiffer surface. The ceiling seemed far away, yet an inch in front of him at the same time. That was hard to tell; it kept wavering closer and farther away from him.

Was he home? It didn’t feel like it. He couldn’t see the morning sun shining through the slats on drawn blinds, couldn’t hear Mabel’s murmurings as she slept in her own bed beside him. The light seemed to be coming from a different window, the smell was all off.

It was a seemingly impossible task to tilt his head to the side and get a look around. He’d feel so much better if his head stopped buzzing painfully, and if he could just catch a glimpse of Mabel to his left. With a groan of effort, he willed the muscles in his neck to move and was rewarded by his head flopping to the side. That caused his headache to surge up, the buzzing in his ears intensifying for a brief agonizing moment before fading back to the usual static.

_Usual? When did it start becoming usual?_

To his relief, Mabel was indeed to his left. He could sense his sister anywhere, and felt the static in his mind ebb slightly as he relaxed. But, upon further study when the other shapes swam into focus, he noted that his parents were there as well. They were all sitting in a group, propped atop each other, and apparently asleep.

Dipper felt himself get panicked at that. He couldn’t quite figure out why, but some deep part of him knew that sleep was dangerous. The buzzing in his mind increased tenfold, and seemed to throb in time with an annoying beeping that seemed to be gaining speed.

Mabel awoke with a start at the noise, and her gaze locked with Dipper’s. Her mouth opened in what seemed like shock.

_Take care of her._

He shut his own eyes, unwilling to burden her with the tears filling there.

“Dip?” Her voice was still croaky from misuse, and that made him feel even worse. So the headache wasn’t just his imagination? He was a failure after all.

There was a gasp, and then pairs of hands on him, prodding at his face and hair. He kept his eyes stubbornly closed, feeling a shaking start to build in time with the glaring beeps still echoing in the room. “Dipper?” That was his mother, filled with worry, brushing his bangs back and fingers tapping a bit desperately at his temple. He heard the voice of his father calling for a nurse.

_Only certain people go to hospitals._ The beeps spiked erratically at that, at he finally realized it must be a heart monitor, reflecting the panic he felt. Its presence made his family, made Mabel herself, witness to how badly his body was betraying him. His headache was splitting his skull now, the throbbing buzzes sounding like a meld between beeps and laughter.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out in time with the beats.

A new presence entered the thrall then, calmly ordering his family to step back. “Mr. Pines.” The new voice was firm, but calm. Dipper almost snorted humourlessly at being addressed that way. “We’re giving you space to acclimatize to your situation, all right? Take your time, there’s no rush. You’re experiencing signs of panic, I know it may be hard to believe, but that is completely normal in cases like yours.”

Dipper did let out a little laugh at that, but it came out more like a breathy gasp. _Normal? Cases like mine?_

Long moments passed, but when his breathing finally returned to normal and the throbs of his head subsided somewhat in synchronization with the beeps, Dipper finally opened his eyes. _Don’t let them think anything’s wrong. Take care of her._ One last shuddering breath was all he allowed himself, then he swallowed down his panic as best he could, and reopened his eyes.

He was greeted again by his family, but this time their expressions were all equal ones of grateful relief. “Sorry, guys,” he mumbled to them, wincing at how tired and miserable his voice sounded.

“It’s okay, baby,” his mother whispered back, smiling in watery encouragement.

The female hospital staff member gently took over then, stepping into his line of vision and asking consent for an examination. Her nametag proclaimed her a doctor, but he couldn’t make out her name. It was pointless, anyway. He was having some trouble remembering things right now.

His parents returned to the chairs, Mabel reluctantly dragged along. Dipper was too pained to nod, but murmured his agreement to the doctor.

“Mr. Pines-” she started.

“Dipper.” Mabel interrupted, crossing her arms with a fierce expression that drew her eyebrows together. “His name is Dipper.”

Their parents quietly admonished her at that, but at Dipper’s grateful expression, the doctor quirked a small smile and nodded. “Dipper, then.” She glanced at a clipboard on the foot of his bed, reading it over. “You were admitted just before midnight yesterday. Your sister says she saw you fall and hit your head on a wooden bedframe, so we kept you under observation for the night.” She paused, meeting his eyes with a clinical sort of concern. “You were unconscious for a while. It’s just past ten o’clock in the morning now, and you didn’t respond to our attempts to wake you up through the night. There’s a high chance you have a concussion. If your parents are willing, we’ll give you a CT scan later today and check for further sustained damage.” She turned to his family at that. “If you don’t mind, Mr. and Mrs. Pines, but I’d like to ask him some questions alone now to figure out what the issue is.”

There was a brief pause. Dad nodded and stood up first, and Mom soon followed a bit more reluctantly. Mabel, however, sunk further down in her chair and crossed her arms more stubbornly, shaking her head. “Don’t be like that, sweetheart,” their father said, taking her hand.

_Why won’t she leave?_

_Take care of her._

“You can go, Mabes,” Dipper spoke up. Her eyes met his again, and he smiled. “I’ll be okay, I promise.” He wasn’t sure what his smile must’ve looked like, but he knew it was a success when her shoulders slumped in submission and she consented to be led away by their parents. The door shut with a click, and Dipper was left with the doctor and his own throbbing skull.

The doctor’s initial questions were simple. What was the date, how old was he, what had he been doing yesterday, stuff like that. She took out a pocket pointer light and shone it, asking him to follow it with his eyes. “Have you had any previous head trauma in the past few months, Dipper?”

He had to file through a lot of information to answer that question. “Umm… Yes. A few times.”

“Tell me?” She took out a pen to write on the clipboard.

“Mostly it was just from… horsing around. Once though, I, uh… Fell from a height and hit my head on a rock. In the middle of the… summer.” He wasn’t about to tell her he had been thrown from a vengeful fake psychic’s giant animatronic being. He’d get locked up for sure. Adults didn’t tend to believe the truth, after all. Lies were simpler. Lies were easier.

The pen scratched as notes were scribbled, and Dipper thought that was it but she soon spoke again, her voice betraying a bit of concern he picked up on. “Did you faint in those past incidents? Feel strange afterwards? Have any other physical systems?”

Dipper paused, swallowing. “I felt dizzy, I guess. I had a headache, my nose bled a little.” The pen flew across the paper, and he protested in a rush. “I didn’t pass out though, so I doubt it’s anything to worry about!”

The doctor smiled thinly at that, professionalism back in place. “It’s not your fault, Dipper. But…” Her words turned delicate, clearly gauging his reaction to them. “If these are… self-inflicted, Dipper, please do tell me. I’m not here to judge, okay? I’m here to help.”

He spluttered in shock, voice cracking. Memories of watching his body fall down a flight of stairs raced through his mind, until he forcibly shoved them back into a deep drawer he never opened. “N-No! Of course not! That’d be stupid.”

Her lips were pursed slightly, but she nodded, eyes trained steadily on the clipboard perched on her lap. “All right. Do you experience headaches often?”

_Yes_. The word was on the tip of his tongue. _Yes. Buzzing, aching, static in my brain. Every day since… Since the summer. Getting worse now, too._

_…Think about the implications, though._

Was that now his common sense talking? It felt like it. Or… it didn’t quite feel like it, exactly, but it _must_ be. What other explanation was there? That voice told him common sense. It made sense to listen to it.

“No,” he said hoarsely, voice shaky a bit at the denial. “No headaches.”

Another note was scribbled down, and her head wasn’t raised. “How about right now?”

“No,” Dipper lied, a bit more firmly now. He set his jaw, feeling slightly more triumphant when the same buzzing died down a bit. It was still there of course, permeating his thoughts, but at least it wasn’t rattling around his skull now.

The doctor looked up at that, face set into a frown. “Are you sure?”

_Lie like you mean it._

Common sense.

“Positive.” He felt no remorse now. None whatsoever. He wanted to protect Mabel. He wanted to go home.

After a tense, drawn-out moment, she finally sighed and rubbed her eyes wearily. “If you say so, Dipper.”

***

Dipper was tested at various times throughout the day, for things such as balance and hand-eye coordination and such. The CT scan showed nothing of consequence, though the doctor ordered him to a week of strict bed rest. Any wooziness or headaches were to be reported immediately. He would be allowed to take ibuprofen, but in regulated doses.

“Repeated injuries, such as the ones he’s sustained, can lead to a greater risk of severe head trauma.” Before Dipper was to be released, his parents had stepped outside with the doctor. Mabel was sitting beside him on the uncomfortable hospital bed, and had been talking non-stop about nothing of consequence as she always did when she wanted to avoid a topic, but paused to take a sip of water. The door to the room was ajar, and Dipper easily managed to eavesdrop on the hushed voices coming from just outside it. “Although this concussion seems benign or mild now, if any symptoms flare up, come right back to the hospital. All Dipper can do for now is rest.”

He was released later on, in the evening. The car ride home was silent, and he hoped he was merely imagining how pronounced the stress lines around his parents’ eyes looked. Even Mabel had given up trying to break the quiet, and grabbed his hand as they sped along, yellow-coloured streetlights lighting up the roads. His head was back to throbbing with each turn of the wheels, the hums and buzzes in his mind echoing endlessly and reaching a cacophony.

They arrived home after what seemed like hours, and in between the time his parents got out of the car and when they came around to open the door for him, Mabel squeezed his fingers. Dipper was too tired to pull a smile, no matter how much he wanted to, as he agonizingly turned his head to meet her gaze. It was mournful, and guilty. He winced at that expression, feeling guilt himself. “You said you were happy, Dipper,” she whispered hoarsely, hurt clear in the quiet timbre of her voice.

His car door was opened, and his parents helped him out. He just barely managed to catch Mabel’s breathed final statement as their hands were separated.

“You said you were okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEpMj-tqixs
> 
> So. I speed-wrote this chapter after /the news/. I had to get my emotions out and what better way than through this fic? If there are any errors with the medical aspects, let me know, but I did research general procedures so hopefully there isn't!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's sticking with this, I appreciate the support ridiculously. We'll all get through this, together! <3 Next chapter should be up within a few days.


	7. A Boy is Presented With a Cure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sick and I'm tired too  
> I can admit, I am not fireproof  
> I feel it burning me  
> I feel it burning you  
> I hope I don't murder me  
> I hope I don't burden you  
> If I do, I do

The silence as the four of them sat around the dining room table was stifling. Exhaustion lined his parents’ and his sister’s faces, and Dipper knew he must look even worse.

“I know you’ve had a rough time, son.” Dad’s voice was gruff and tired. “But your mother and I want to get some things out of the way with you and Mabel now, if that’s all right.”

Dipper nodded listlessly, closing his eyes. He’d agree to anything if it would hurry this all up. His brain pounded against his skull, beating the tissue there into an angrily incessant droning rage.

“You should let him sleep, Daddy,” Mabel protested when Dipper remained silent. “We can talk-”

“Mabel.” That was Mom. Dipper rarely heard that strain coming from her, and Mabel must’ve realized that too, for she fell silent. “We need to do this…” She trailed off and sighed heavily, apparently at a loss for words.

Dipper opened his eyes at that, taking in the scene. Mom was rubbing her own head; Dad looked like he was steeling himself to say something; Mabel just appeared confused. “Do what?” The three looked at Dipper, all a bit shocked at his sudden inquiry.

He was shocked at it himself, to be honest. Something akin to a beast in his head wasn’t happy with him speaking up – it frowned and reduced him into a painful state again, consumed by jarring hums. The message, however, was loud and clear: _No talking._

“You and Mabel are getting your own rooms,” Dad finally answered with a sigh. Mom was nodding, and Dipper almost felt an inexplicable sigh of relief, even though he should have probably felt some sort of remorse. _That was all?_ The buzzing in his head increased furiously, the beast rearing its head, and Dipper flinched.

His sister, however, was making loud spluttering noises of protest. “Y-You can’t do that! We’ve been together _forever_! Don’t split us up!”

“Mabel, I told you a hundred times you needed to not leave clothes lying around,” their mother answered, looking apologetic. “Dipper tripped over _your_ dress. It’ll be safer – for _both_ of you – if you each had your own room, sweetheart.”

“I promise I’ll b-be better at it,” Mabel entreated, and Dipper caught a glance of her eyes staring to tear up. He shut his eyes at that, unable to deal with her crying. Just please let it be over soon. “I’m s-sorry, please don’t-”

“You’re teenagers now, too,” Dad continued a bit uncomfortably, though not sounding quite as sorry saying the news as his wife was. “I thought you’d be pleased about this.”

“Of course we’re not _pleased_ about-”

“Mabel, you need to calm down.”

“N-No! Besides, Dipper totally agrees with me, right? He-”

With a groan at the increase of noise that broke out, Dipper grabbed his head with his hands and screwed his eyes shut even further. The argument cut off abruptly, and he felt a timid hand on his shoulder. “Bro-bro?”

“Dipper,” his mother’s voice sounded panicked now, and he heard hurried footsteps coming around the table. “What’s wrong?” She asked, rubbing between his shoulders.

The beast laughed, each guffaw jolting the addled mind it had carved its way into _. So much is wrong. Everything is wrong._ Dipper kept his temples covered by his clenched hands – if she started tapping there now, he’d lose it.

“Hurts,” he bit out through gritted teeth, almost screaming at the increase in pain when the word left his mouth. _No talking._

“All right, everyone, it’s been a long weekend.” His dad’s voice seemed farther away, swimming in and out of focus through the buzzing of Dipper’s brain. “Son, get some rest. Mabel, we’ll start moving your stuff this week. For now, you can stay where you are, but no bugging your brother. You have school in the morning.”

Mabel’s hand left his shoulders, to better face Dad. “You still expect me to go to school after-”

“No exceptions,” their dad cut her off, in that rarely-heard tone reserved for the occasional grounding.

“C’mon, let’s get you up to bed,” Mom murmured in Dipper’s ear, hands guiding him into a standing position propped against her. The world titled for a wild moment, the humming in his ears sloping and making him even more disoriented. With a shaky sigh, Dipper finally lowered his hands and opened his eyes to a squint. The light hurt. Everything hurt. How naïve he was, thinking the pain he’d felt previously would be worthy of comparison to this. Her arms encircled his shoulders, and they left the dining room, arguing voices fading when they exited.

Dipper’s room was blissfully dark and silent compared to the rest of the house. Shakily, he lowered himself into bed, and threw a pillow over his head. “Sleep well, baby,” his mother whispered, touch lingering on his shoulder before drawing back. He heard her shuffling around the room, most likely putting away the offending dress still strewn on the floor, then finally – _finally_ – with the click of a door closing, he was alone and his surroundings were silent.

If he had thought the beast in his mind had merely reared its head before, it was positively baring its teeth now in order to roar loud and proud. The screams echoed throughout his mind, and his eyes squeezed shut further until it was painful. Screams weren’t only confined to his mind now, and he let himself go, sobs and shouts thankfully muffled in the pillow so that nobody would catch on.

His head was burning, as if it was being branded.

_So much pain._

How long he cried out and twitched in agony, he didn’t know, but he managed to force himself into an exhausted sleep before Mabel came in for bed.

***

The next few days were the worst of Dipper’s life. He didn’t know whether sleep or wakefulness was worse.

His daylight hours were filled with that of the beast in his mind cackling and rumbling it so that his whole brain practically shook to splinters.

His dreams at night were nightmares, full of triangles and top hats and bow ties chasing him off a rickety railway suspended between two cliffs. The second night added his family to the mix, as he pushed them into a different type of bottomless pit, and the demon laughed in his ears, in his mind.

“You didn’t take care of me, brother!” Mabel screamed as he kicked her down.

He would wake up, to a house empty, and scream.

He would wake up from the screaming to a worried mother sitting on his bed, and tapping his temples.

He would wake up from his mother to a bow tie sitting innocently on his bedside table.

***

Dipper rocked back and forth in bed, pinching his forearms. Was he really awake? How did the tie get there?

_I think you should probably put it on._

He flinched at that, and the beast paused thoughtfully.

For the first time in half a week, the throbbing in his head wasn’t all-consuming, and he almost wept with relief. “I can’t,” he breathed out. “I won’t.”

 _Shame_.

The beast returned with a vengeance, shattering a synapse per second.

***

Dipper woke up to Mabel shaking his shoulder.

“You okay, bro-bro? It looked like you were having a nightmare.”

He squinted up, the throbbing abating and allowing him to see. Mabel’s face wavered hazily in his line of sight, a worried frown creasing her features. “What day’st?” He croaked out.

She looked even more concerned at that. “Friday morning. I’m heading off to school soon. Mom and Dad already left for work.”

A nod was all he could manage.

“…You sure you’ll be fine on your own? You’ve barely left your bed this week.”

“Resting,” Dipper whispered, eyes closing again. “Why were you talking in your sleep last night?”

Mabel’s hand tentatively felt his forehead, but she paused at his question. “Dip… I’ve slept in my new room since Wednesday.” He didn’t answer, just burrowed deeper into the pillows. Mabel sighed. “We’ll talk when you’re better, okay? Just rest for now.”

***

The boy awoke with a start to the beeping of his alarm clock on the bedside table. The blatantly red letters of 3 p.m. glared back at him when he slammed it off.

There was silence. His parents must be at work. Mabel must have an activity after school.

A peanut butter sandwich and glass of water sat next to the alarm clock. He laughed humourlessly upon noticing that his mother had the sandwich bread was cut into triangle halves.

Munching on it anyway, the blissful silence of his head was pondered thoughtfully.

Well, not silence, necessarily. More like a subdued humming, as if the beast slept.

_Don’t want to wake it, don’t want to hurt anymore._

Dipper nodded along. His common sense was speaking that sense again as its name suggested, like usual. Truly, that was the only thing that had kept him somewhat pulled together for his family this week – his common sense pushing through the snapping beast in his mind to whisper words of encouragement and comfort. But Dipper was weak, though, and his conscience was, too. Eventually the beast always returned with a vengeance. Still, even knowing that in mere moments, his head would pound again, Dipper relished the reprieve as he sat and finished his sandwich.

 _There’s a way to not make it hurt, there’s_ one _way. I know there is._

He paused at that. That was impossible. There was no magic cure. He’d just have to suck it up and get over it, like he always did. He was an adult. He could solve his problems. He just needed time to think.

_Can’t think!_

His common sense had a tinge of panic in its timbre, now, and Dipper felt himself clench. The panic could only mean…

 _No time! Take_ it _out, save your-_

The beast burst through its constraints, strangled the calming voice and Dipper shuddered as tremors regained force in his mind.

***

“I called the hospital today, baby,” Mom murmured as she tucked him in after dinner Sunday night. “They say you can take another day off tomorrow, just to be safe. Tuesday, though, if you’re not better, we’ll take you back in again. Is that okay?”

Dipper nodded. He wanted to scream. Scream so that some of the pain inside his head could reach the exterior surroundings, so that his family would know his agony.

“Sounds good, Mom,” he whispered with a smile as broken as his mind felt. He had noticed all the looks exchanged between his parents and sister the past week. He had tried to put up a front, he really did – but, they weren’t stupid.

 _Don’t want hospital again_ , his common sense choked out, valiantly holding back the beast for a few seconds to feebly blurt this out.

“Me neither,” Dipper whispered fearfully once he was alone in his room. With a snarl, the beast sliced the voice of his common sense to ribbons, ensuring Dipper fell asleep with a sore mind and tear tracks on the pillowcase.

***

_Last day, last day, last day!_

His common sense sounded strangled with utter desperation. Dipper awoke and worried at his lip. It was right. He’d have to make everything better today, before his family returned home. Or else…

 _Please_ , the voice begged in his head, sounding distraught. It pleaded for him to do it, to open it, to put it on. _Please, please. Get it! Feel so much better._

Dipper’s lip was bleeding now from all the biting it had been given. He wiped at the stubborn tears under his eyes, and delayed the inevitable. “What’s _it_?” He asked aloud, voice cracking in the bright sunlight of high noon.

_You know what it is, you know._

The boy did know what his conscience was talking about. He knew it was that damn piece of fabric, returned to his wardrobe by his mother when she had moved Mabel out earlier this week and cleaned his new empty room. Dipper knew now that it was the thing that had helped him before. He knew instinctively, deep down in his gut, somehow that the bow tie from that… _thing_ would help him.

…But.

But, if he relented, Dipper knew there’d be no going back. He’d have to face his demons, quite literally. He would be running to the devil in a triangle disguise for help.

His conscience’s scream was frantic now:

_Not much longer, pain’s coming back, it’s gonna kill-_

This time, the beast was relentless. Its barrage against Dipper’s common sense was the worst yet, bashing at his already frayed and battered head, the tears in his brain squishing against his skull and making blood trickle steadily from his nose.

With a sob at the red staining his hands when it dripped there, Dipper finally gave in. That was the last nail in his coffin. He’d be locked up for sure if his family caught him bleeding.

“Fine!” Dipper shouted, voice giving out temporarily from the sheer volume. “Just shut up! _Stop it!_ ”

Hurriedly, he threw off the covers and stumbled across his now too-empty room with only one bed, to the wardrobe. One hand jerked open the bottom drawer while the other tried to staunch his nosebleed, which was seemingly increasing at each slamming of the beast against his thoughts.

Scrabbling around, Dipper finally managed to find the fabric through this tears, and closed his hand on it, nails scraping the wood with a screech.

Nothing happened, and Dipper’s last shred of willpower broke. Sobs wracked his body, and it was so hard to breathe through the blood and tears obstructing his senses.

Hopeless, hopeless, he’d die this way. It was too late, he was beyond help.

Then…

_It’s okay. Hush, hush... You’re fine now._

Blessedly, it was as if the gods had cured him, and Dipper felt the vice-like grip around his mind diminish.

It was as though a bay window had been flung open in his brain and the cobwebs swept out of a dank room. It was like eating for the first time in months. It was similar to being home again.

Whatever comparison Dipper could make, he didn’t care. What mattered was that his head was free of pain once more. Sweet relief flooded his brain, and the liberation from that ugly beast made Dipper’s tears turn into ones of joy.

He should have trusted his common sense sooner, he should have allowed himself to be compelled days ago. He was in debt to his conscience, now, as it nestled happily in his now flawless core. It had freed him from the worst week of his life, and brought him through into that idyllic state of a mind as clear as a summer morning wandering through the forest in Gravity Falls.

_Good, Dipper. Good._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DujKJ1OaLQE
> 
> Confused?! GOOD! Ya should be ;) Seriously, though, this chapter was meant to be very confusing (even when I wrote it, haha). Dipper doesn't know if he's asleep or awake half the time, and as for his head? Imagine a migraine. Now times that by 3 triangle demons, throw in an incinerated Time Baby and some time punch, and you're there. Needless to say, Dipper has an exceedingly high pain tolerance - remember this, it comes in handy later ;) We've made it this far, onwards Aoshima with Phase 2! I'll be happy to answer any questions though, and clarify whatever I am able :)
> 
> Thank you to everyone supporting me and this fic, I love you all <3 I wrote this just for y'all to read after tonight's episode. At time of posting, it'll be a half hour before the second-last one... Just... Hold me, friends <3


	8. A Boy Becomes an Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're dripping like a saturated sunrise  
> You're spilling like an overflowing sink  
> You're ripped at every edge, but you're a masterpiece  
> And now you're tearing through the pages and the ink

After Dipper’s relieved sobs had died down into deep breathing – _I can’t believe I did it, it’s gone, oh God it’s gone; it’s actually_ gone – he allowed himself a few more moments just sitting there on the floor.

He marvelled how calm and quiet the house seemed. The light shining through the window had been jarring before; now it was soft and even soothing. He got caught in watching dust motes flit and fall in increments through the air. Entranced, he wiped away the tears from his face with the back of his hand. The tears gathered there, surfacetension making them bead and look like fine crystal. If he tilted his hand ever so slightly, they slid off the edge of his palm and were absorbed into the fabric of the bow tie.

That tie itself caught his eye for long moments. He felt the ancient tick of a grandfather clock as he leaned his hand this way and that, gazing at it passively when it caught the light, half absorbing it into its depths and half refracting it into the stillness surrounding him. Not quite silk, not quite satin, it flowed over his pores like air and was absorbed into his body like the sweet antidote it was. It was a shimmering fabric; as deep and endless as the space between stars and supernovas. Like a black hole, a black soul. It was unceasing yet finite, all at once. Utter endlessness and life, but contained there, and ending in his contrasting white mortal fingers. Beautiful.

After what felt like hours of blissful quiet in his brain, Dipper felt the compelling thought to clean himself up gently permeate his trance. As he rose, the bow tie clutched loosely in his hand, he caught sight of himself in the full-size mirror pinned on his wall, and was induced to pause once more, this time to pore intently over the boy displayed there.

The boy kneeling there staring back at him was a glorious mess; unkempt brunet locks grown out and filled with snarls that circled his head, the brown pigment pilfered through with the sunlight still streaming onto him. His eyes matched; messy and tear-stained, blown wide with wonder, the brown catching light refracting around the bedroom as he kept his face upturned to the heavens just past the white ceiling. This figure had his arms rested on his sides, hands facing upward with a slip of black resting on one palm, as if it always belonged there. Ruby red blood still oozed steadily from a nose, beginning to dry and crust over. Dipper watched in fascination as a dehydrated tongue flicked up over his lips to taste its copper there; he was reminded of a fairy tale he had read as a child, his younger fingertips brushing over a glossy phoenix becoming reborn.

His room seemed so empty as he looked around, noting Mabel’s absence with a pang of regret. Yet… He couldn’t help but feel the smallest sliver of excitement buried deep down. Children had to share rooms; he supposed he was one no longer, than.

Dipper had more space to be himself, now. Take advantage of the new confusing clarity singing through his pristine mind. Spread his wings.

He’d visited one church in his lifetime, when he and Mabel were young, and visiting San Francisco with their parents. It was a famous church, part of the tour they had gone on for the day. There had been stained glass windows high up, loftily proclaiming pictures of angels and saints. The boy in front of Dipper reminded him of those ethereal beings, as he knelt there silently, with a chest moving gently, stars on his skin and sun through his hair and hands open to whatever deity might choose to smile down on him. Whatever god that existed _must_ be smiling down on him. Must be gazing down from their perch on a pearly throne, eyes crinkled with love as they healed him, some worthless kid in the grand scheme of it all. Without them, he’d be sick and poisoned and insane and disgusting again. But now? Now he felt wholesome; even special.

_You_ are _special. You are unlike all others, Dipper Pines._

His common sense made itself known again. Gone was the need for it to fight in order to be heard over the cacophony in Dipper’s mind. Now it spoke in a whisper, gently caressing his consciousness in a way that was so much more soothing and welcome compared to the beast plaguing there mere hours ago.

Dipper felt like a soaring angel as a smile ghosted the boy’s face in the looking glass, growing ever larger as each second ticked by, equally fleeting yet infinite. His heart swelled tentatively at the praise also, as if it craved any form of affection after the horrors it had witnessed its sister, the mind, go through the past week.

The blood on the boy in the mirror’s face was still being dragged down by gravity, leaking over now grinning lips into the cracks between white teeth.

It was almost prophetic, this euphoria he was feeling. Oracular; divinatory; a vision carrying him onward and closer to some final masterwork. He was suspended in space on the head of a pin, ready to jump into some great unknown. But how to get there?

He was flying and soaring, ever higher and higher, closer to a magnum opus of perfection just barely out of reach from desperately grasping clawed fingers…

“Dipper!” The lilting call and slam of a distant door broke him out of his admiring stupor, crashing back to earth like a fallen angel. He blinked at his reflection, then bolted up and to the bathroom, bow tie crushed in his fist. He locked the door behind him, smile secretive now when his head stayed clear even after the burst of energy. “Bro-bro? You sleeping?”

It was Mabel, bounding down the hallway now, from the front door to their bedrooms. Dipper licked his teeth, cleaning the red there, before answering. “I’m just about to take a shower, Mabes! I’ll be out soon.”

His sister reached the bathroom door at that point; Dipper could see her shadow pause under the bottom crack. There was a noise of surprise she couldn’t seem to stifle. “You… You’re up? You’re _okay_?” She sounded shocked; incredulous.

In spite of how happy he felt, Dipper still couldn’t help but feel sorry for his sister and all she must have been through when he was forced to be that… _shell_ this past week. “I’m feeling much better, Mabel,” he promised sincerely.

“If you say so, well then… I’m glad,” she mumbled back, the volume even more stifled due to the locked door separating them. “I’ll see you when you’re done, then.”

She was gone, and Dipper was alone, but not really. He didn’t mind, now that his head no longer ached. He suddenly wanted to make good on his promise, and clean all the impurities and ugliness off him. Excited fingers stripped, but fumbled and dropped the bow tie. It was like a clap of thunder, how instantly the pain and suffering returned, the beast winking into existence deep in the folds of his mind. Dipper lurched forward with a yelp, falling to his knees. He shook like a leaf, but finally managed to slap a hand on the fabric.

Blood dripping fresh from his nose onto the tiled floor below his hands and knees was how he marked the passing time.

Slowly, just under thirty drips later, the beast faded away again into nothing, like volume being lowered to silence on a television channel filled with black and white static, and Dipper gasped in air erratically. Once he was sure he was safe, his muscles slowly unclenched and he sat cross-legged, staring at the tie cupped in his hands. Gingerly, he tied the fabric around an ankle, double knotting the ends. His hands jerked away quickly, but when the agony didn’t return, the rest of his body relaxed and he breathed out deeply in relief.

He paused, head cocking to one side, but no sounds of Mabel came running, and he finished undressing. The boy dragged a hand under his nose, and admired the way its redness contrasted starkly with the white translucence of his skin in the harsh light of the shower. It swirled down the drain, diluting its colour and mingling with the water.

The message was unspoken yet crystal clear: Don’t take off the bow tie.

Shouldn’t it be feeling heavy against his ankle, the water weighing it down a bit? But no. As Dipper reached out to touch it, he found it quite cool and dry, even in spite of the water raining down on it directly. It felt extra shimmery, and his head was rewarded with another brush of fresh air as his fingertips felt it for a moment longer.

The shower was grounding and cleansing; Dipper basked in it, and when he brushed his teeth and hair afterwards. He even caught himself humming along to a BABBA song whilst he was scrubbing the congealed blood off his upper lip. His reflection grinned back at him when he checked to make sure no red lingered on the teeth, eyes bright.

Dipper felt human for the first time in what seemed like ages, as he returned to his room and dressed. His parents were back from work now; he could hear all three of his family members chatting in the kitchen while making dinner. Checking to make sure the tie was covered by his pant cuff, he entered a few minutes later.

His parents and sister seemed overjoyed at his better mood all throughout setting the table and eating dinner, talking like usual. Dipper caught his parents exchange a look of relief when he reiterated how great he was feeling.

“That’s great, baby,” Mom said, patting his hand. “See? You just needed your rest!”

“You might as well go back to school tomorrow,” his father added in between bites of food. “Get caught up on all the work you missed.”

Dipper nodded. “Sure thing, Dad.”

Mabel took over then, brightly chattering and getting him back up to speed on all the school drama he missed in the week he was gone.

***

That night, Dipper slept the best he had in a long while. His dreams were full of light, and laughter, and happy memories from years past.

He soared on the highest clouds and dived into the deepest waters; went on a grand adventure with his sister, protected his family, and was rewarded medals. His family was watching him proudly as he stepped atop a high staircase and looked down on the world.

The stairs disappeared, yet instead of falling, he sprouted wings and flew onwards and upwards, to a grand bright yellow sun that proclaimed his perfection, its triangular rays speckling against the exposed stars on his skin that matched the heavens he floated through so perfectly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TNt28Tx-cw0
> 
> So much prose and imagery in this chapter! Correction: so much /important/ prose and imagery in this chapter! All I can say is: remember that definition I have in the summary of this fic? Keep that in mind as we move forward ^-^
> 
> It’s funny what (supposedly) coincidental results deep research can yield! I’ve done a lot of digging and clarifying for countless aspects of this story, most recently being the church I referenced briefly near the beginning of this chapter. It’s meant to be Saints Peter and Paul Church in San Fran, which is on Filbert Street (I immediately thought of Filbrick) and numbered 666 (I think y’all thought of someone else interlinked with that number ;P) Also, since we’re on a saint kick, story time: Do my readers know the tale of Saint Paul himself? It might be a good time to research that and keep it in mind!
> 
> Sorry the update is a bit shorter, but I worked really hard to get content out to you before December fully hit! These next few weeks are gonna be hella busy, friends, so I probably won’t be updating for a bit. (I have exams, 50% assignments, work, family shenanigans, roommate issues, holiday shopping… Ah, the joys of being a broke, full-time university student getting her dual degree -_-) Anywho, this fic means a lot to me; almost as much as my readers mean to me. Thanks to everyone so far; I appreciate all the kind words and motivations! If you have any predictions, or even future ideas/songs you think I should use in upcoming chapters, let me know! I just might include them, if they tickle my fancy! :D
> 
> \--- P.S. Y’all wanna be satisfied with some sin? Check out my works! The lovely Hyrulehalfbreed and I have been writing a fairly saucy billdip au on the side, hopefully that’ll tide you over (as well as my other fics, GF or otherwise!) until the next update ;) ---


	9. A Boy Gazes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You must be hovering over yourself  
> Watching us drip on each other's sides  
> Dear brother, collect all the liquids off of the floor  
> Use your oily fingers  
> Make a paste, let it form

“My name is Dipper Pines.”

_Yes. Your name is Dipper Pines._

“And I…”

_And you’re…_

_What?_

_…You’re **what?**_

“I’m… Happy.”

_Good._

“G-Good?”

_Yes, Dipper. Good._

Brown eyes blinked open. These past few weeks had been only going up and up, he thought. He _realized_. School wasn’t horrible. Mabel and his parents were tolerable. His hair was growing out and the weather was growing colder. If he’d uncover his ankle, a tan line would form around the bow tie there.

It was a permanent fixture on his person, now. Dipper forgot he had it most of the time, only realizing it when he unconsciously found himself brushing fingertips against it. It felt like silk, running water over stressed skin. It was calming. It was grounding.

Those first few days he had worn it, he’d been a bit concerned at how others would react if they found out. But, after time, he’d realized the truth. It was a good luck charm. It wasn’t any different than his parents never taking off their wedding rings – it was something he chose to wear. It made him feel better. Why shouldn’t he wear it? It was his decision.

_You’re right._

A smile ghosted over his face at the proud timbre speaking quietly inside his mind. He stretched, yawning almost obnoxiously, and got ready for the day. Fingers combed through hair, catching a hazy-eyed boy in the mirror, before going to sift through clothes in a closet that was now wholly his own.

That was another thing… The voice. It really was his conscience, if he was trying to look for labels. Initially, it’d only given him pleadings, upgrading to pep talks, upgrading to advice. But… It was nice to have a friend who cared; who didn’t expect anything in return. It was nice to listen to himself, realize that he was doing things for his own sanity when he heard and listened. Sure, he’d been hesitant at first – I mean, who wouldn’t be with voices in heads? – but it was _his_. Of course everyone listened to their consciences. It was a natural, human thing to do, after all. They were social creatures. It stood to reason that some could be social in their own minds, as well. He was tired of being isolated and left alone.

_Why not the black today?_

I look weird in black.

_You look good in black!_

…If you’re sure.

_I’m you, Dipper! Of course I’m sure._

Smirking, the boy grabbed the black long sleeved shirt off the rack and pulled it over his head. “Mhm.” It rested around his shoulders in a bunch as he pulled on some jeans and did up the belt buckle.

_Wait._

Dipper paused, curious.

_Look at yourself. Right now. Just… take a glance in the mirror._

The brunet let out a startled cough at that, feeling his face heat up. He got the metal spoke through a belt hole and yanked the shirt over his torso in record time, studiously avoiding the mirror that stood just off to his side. It was helpful and great and all, but sometimes his conscience was a bit… Weird.

There was a sort of sigh that echoed behind his forehead as Dipper left his bedroom, closing the door tight behind him.

_Shame. A real shame._

“Don’t be weird,” Dipper muttered, but smirked anyway. It wasn’t harming him, after all.

“Whatcha talkin’ bout, bro-bro? Can’t stop this weird train, chugging away from the station!” A cheery chirp came mere inches away from Dipper’s side, and he jumped into the air, causing peals of laughter to erupt from his sister. “Yeesh! Didn’t mean to spook ya, Mr. Jumpy.”

Dipper rubbed at the back of his neck, but allowed himself to be dragged by the hand into the kitchen with minimal grumbling. “Morning, munchkins!” their mom called from the stove, raising a spatula in salute. Half of an egg dribbled down in a plopped with a squelch onto the floor. She frowned down at it before shrugging and letting her husband clean it up.

“Sleep well?” Dad asked distractedly, squinting as he dabbed a paper towel repeatedly on the floor feet away from the fallen egg goop. With a sigh, Mabel left Dipper’s side, grabbing a pair of glasses and handing them to their father, who put them on with a sheepish mutter of thanks.

The twins shared a smirk, and Mabel got a kiss on the cheek from Dad before he cleaned it up. “I did, though Dip seems to have forgotten we’re going to school, not a funeral.”

“Hardee har har,” Dipper said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Mabel stuck out a tongue at him when she grabbed her plate of breakfast, which he returned. “Just telling the truth, Dipping Sauce! It seems a bit severe.”

“Well I think he looks positively…” Mom pressed a kiss to her son’s forehead, thinking over the perfect adjective when she handed him his own plate. “Dashing! Very handsome, baby.”

“Mom,” Dipper complained, rubbing at his forehead when he joined Mabel at the table. Mom only smirked, blowing him a kiss.

“Oh, Alon,” she sighed when he stood from the floor, only to have his head bump hard onto the underside of a kitchen counter. Mabel guffawed so hard that milk snorted out of her nose, which in turn caused Dipper to laugh, too.

_You should finish eating! Don’t wanna be late for school._

Nodding, Dipper scarfed down the rest of his eggs and urged his sister to hurry up, too. School itself was fairly lackluster. Dipper knew all this stuff already; he fiddled with his pen in geometry, ate a tuna sandwich at lunch while Mabel chattered in his ear, and found himself doodling later on in English. As riveting as the American middle school education system was, Dipper had never really fancied being lectured about in a classroom, so he found himself far more interested in his markings on the margin of his notebook.

_Nice rendition, Dip!_

“Thanks, self,” he muttered under his breath, a smile just ghosting over his lips.

“Huh? What’d you say?” His sister’s stage whisper sounded out close to his ear from her seat next to him. Their teacher wasn’t the smartest, placing everyone alphabetically. Mabel’s attention span typically meant a lot of distractions.

Mabel must’ve heard, or at least seen him mouthing the words. Dipper flinched and his pencil drawings came to a halt when he looked up to her. “Nothing,” he insisted. She looked skeptical again, just like earlier, mouth opening to retort, but Dipper beat her to it. “Mabel, shut up or we’re gonna-“

“Pines!” The twins jumped, eyes moving to the front. Their teacher was a strict older man, maybe even older than Grunkle Stan, with a last name far too long and difficult to pronounce, but nonetheless he was rather formidable. Mr. F had been teaching English for decades, and every year students hoped he’d retire but no such luck – his class was like a final horrendous test before making it to high school. Dozens of eyes from other students swiveled around to stare, some of their classmates already gearing up for the show. Mr. F – most likely named for the grade average he gave out – wasn’t afraid to chew you out, and Dipper felt his anxiety spike.

_Let me handle this._

What?

_Let. Me. Handle. This._

“Sorry, sir!” Mabel chirped, trying for damage control, a winning apologetic smile on her face. “I was just asking my brother what he thought about that line where-”

“What were we learning about?” The teacher cut her off, foot tapping impatiently. Dipper wondered detachedly, in his panic, why he’d ever gone into the education profession to begin with if he seemed to hate it so much.

Mabel took a breath. “P-Pardon?”

Shrugging, Mr. F. looked smug, as if embarrassing students in a classroom was his favourite thing to do. Dipper began to realize that was probably the reason for his choice of employment. “You said you were asking your brother about the lines. Since you’re such an _expert,_ Mr. Pines,” Here he turned to Dipper, gaze haughty. “What were we learning about?”

_Apologize._

“I-I’m s-sorry…”

_No. More sincere._

Dipper choked off, panic thrumming through his veins. What? More sincere? …Everyone was staring, they were watching him and judging him and he couldn’t handle this and he was getting red and-

_Repeat after me._

…Okay.

And so he did, fighting against the stutters and voice cracks. “My apologies, s-sir, for the disruption. I was telling my sister a-about Hamlet’s soliloquy.”

Some of his classmates were losing interest now that the twins were in the clear. Dipper felt a bit of relief seep into him.

Mr. F. seemed frustrated, however. Dipper’s conscience hummed in irritation as the man didn’t let it go and instead opened his mouth to ask, “What line was it last, and what did it mean?”

_Irksome man._ There was a sigh from his conscience, angry at the teacher, but it helped Dipper again.

“‘To sleep, perchance to dream’,” Dipper said, clearer this time. Almost all his anxiety was replaced by annoyance, now. He really was an irksome man, trying to humiliate him in front of the class. Thankfully he had someone on his side to help him out. Well, himself. He was helping himself out, of course. “Meaning death would free him from his problems.”

Dipper’s bow tie rubbed against his ankle, and he rolled his foot comfortingly as a wave of calm seemed to wash over him.

There was a beat of silence in the classroom, all students’ eyes waiting on the teacher now. Mr. F. tapped his foot once more before nodding brusquely. “Fine. But no more talking out of turn, or there will be consequences.” He returned to reading the play, and Dipper felt a sense of relief through his surprise.

_Good job, Pines._

…Thanks.

“Yo, bro!” Mabel whispered excitedly. Dipper only shot her a look, pressing his hand over her mouth, and went back to doodling. She giggled beside him, lightly punching him in the shoulder, and the rest of the day continued without incidence.

That evening, before going to bed, Dipper’s conscience asked him to look in the mirror again. There was a moment’s hesitation before he agreed, and did.

_What do you think?_

“This is stupid,” the boy muttered, embarrassment etched into his tone. He looked skinny and scrawny, and he was only doing this as a thank you for his conscience helping him out in school earlier.

_Well, I don’t think so. And I’m you, after all._

Red stained his cheeks at the mere seconds he allowed himself to gaze at his reflection, before Dipper hurriedly threw on the rest of his pyjamas and hopped into bed. That was weird. Not as strange as he’d expected, but still… Weird.

_You did well today, Dipper. Good job. Be happy._

Brown eyes blinked closed, and slumber filled with good dreams was a promised reward only moments away. “…Thank you.” The reward came, and he felt utterly exhausted when he drifted off.

***

Two weeks later, Mabel snapped her fingers urgently in front of her brother’s face. “Yo! Dipper! Earth to Lord Dippy Lips!”

Dipper started awake. He’d been dozing off again. Strange, but he was probably just more tired than usual. These dozes had been happening for the past three days now.

…Then again, that didn’t quite make sense either. He hadn’t slept this well in what felt like years; his dreams at night were calm and sweet and peaceful, lasting for at least eight hours, yet his waking days were still riddled with him being exhausted.

_I wouldn’t worry about it. Growth spurt or something, to be sure. Teenagers get those._

At that, he smiled. If his conscience was right, that’d be great! The taller of the twins… Speaking of which, Mabel was now sticking her face right under his nose when he didn’t respond immediately.

“You on drugs or something, broseph? Been zoning out for a good five minutes!”

“Sorry, Mabes,” he said with a shrug, trying and failing to stifle a yawn. They were on the bus going to school, on their usual seat right on the bump of the wheel, next to the window. Dipper sat there, hunched over with his knees drawn up, as they crossed a huge pothole and caused him to bounce high.

Mabel blew a raspberry of forgiveness before rolling her eyes and continuing. “As I was _saaaaying_ ,” she drawled pointedly. “Do you think Mr. F. will be back today? We’ve had that substitute teacher for half a week now!”

Yawning once more, Dipper shrugged. “She’s a lot nicer, that’s for sure. Maybe Effers moved to Russia or something.”

His sister snorted with laughter. “That’d be nice! Teaching English to Siberians… I’d pay to see that!” She flipped her hair over a shoulder as the bus bounced again on the road, adjusting her sparkly comet barrette. “Maybe he’d meet Dracula! They’d get along swimmingly.”

Dipper chuckled and was about to tell Mabel that meeting Dracula in Siberia was unlikely, since he was Transylvanian, but she beat him to it, voice excited and brown eyes lighting up. “Oh, bro! That reminds me. Halloween is in, like, a week! We need to get started on our costumes!” She made a squealing noise of delight, clapping her hands excitedly.

Oh.

_Oh, indeed. Told you we needed to tell her earlier._

…Yeah, you’re probably right.

Dipper was biting his lip more than a bit anxiously, but when Mabel poked him impatiently in the upper arm, he took a deep breath. “I’ve decided that, uh… I’m not… Going out for Halloween this year, Mabes.” His sister merely blinked, shock just beginning to overtake excitement. “…Sorry,” he tacked on in a mutter, preparing for the blow-up that was sure to happen.

“…It’s fine,” Mabel finally muttered. It sounded like the words took some effort, though, since her teeth were grinding. Dipper felt guilt as she looked away pointedly, eyes seeming to glisten.

He sighed, reaching out a hand to place on her shoulder, and wincing when it was shrugged off. “Mabes, we’re thirteen now, and I kinda told you this back during Summerween anyway… I just thought that-”

“I said it’s _fine_ , Dipper,” his sister snapped, not even glancing at him. Her entire body was stiff, and the awkward stalling moment between them felt extra strained while they were surrounded by laughing classmates all around them.

Before the bus even came to a full stop beside their school, Mabel was up and halfway down the aisle. A few students called angrily after her for butting, but she didn’t stop, instead storming down the stairs and into the building. Dipper sighed, waiting his turn to exit with the rest of his grade.

_She’s just being stupid._

That’s a mean thing to say.

_Is it? You’re thinking it! Eh, maybe she’ll turn around. It’ll all blow over soon – she’ll realize giving you a cold shoulder is pointless. You both have to grow up eventually._

The boy chewed his lip as he exited the bus some minutes later.

Mabel didn’t speak to him when they were in first period, although she did sit on the opposite end of class, so it wasn’t that obvious. Still, no notes were passed between the pair today. In fact, after the anthem and announcements, the principal herself called for an immediate assembly in the gym.

There were whoops and excited chatter around him, but Dipper only felt miserable when Mabel lined up as far away from him as possible. The class’ walk to the gym was short, the time going by faster with wild theories of why such an event was occurring.

“-not on the schedule, Nat, I don’t know how I’m going to fit in the lesson today with this interruption and-” Two teachers were passing, their own theories flying. Apparently teachers were just as clueless why the entirety of the faculty and student body were being assembled.

Dipper frowned. Wonder what’s up?

_Indeed._

The atmosphere amongst students was typical as they entered the gym: complaining about having to sit cross-legged on the tiled floor, making noise, sitting beside friends, talking about Halloween plans. That last topic made Dipper feel even worse, especially when Mabel sat on the opposite end of his class, nestled amongst all her friends, chattering animatedly and not even sparing a glance in his general direction.

She always seemed to have so many of those.

_Don’t think about that now. Keep a sharp eye out… Something’s up._

His conscience was right. The teachers were whispering in each other’s ears, and looks of shock followed down the line as the message was passed along. One even burst into tears, having to be ushered out by another. No other students seemed to care though, or even notice.

When the principal finally called for silence at the front, speaking into a microphone, voice strained, Dipper felt as though everyone else around him was very far away. The world was growing fuzzy, and he was so tired. The principal’s words shouldn’t be as clear in his mind as they were, but he heard them crystal.

It was as though all his senses were honed in on her, with her shaking hands and sad hands, somber voice speaking an announcement that chilled his blood.

“I’m so sorry to tell you this, students, as I know many of you knew him. It’s times like these where we need to band together and work through bad news as a family of sorts-”

Dipper started to shake; the next words were going to seal his fate somehow, he knew it. Unaware of how Mabel glanced at him, the boy’s attention never diverted from the principal, who was now choking up. “…Unfortunately, Mr. Eleazar Feuchtwangerivich passed away in his sleep last night.”

“Who the hell is that?” Dipper’s neighbour muttered aloud, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Mr. F.,” the boy whispered back, timbre strained and almost silent, brown eyes wide.

_…Indeed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PEQKwJred40
> 
> *deep breath* Hello. Been a while, eh? ...Yeeeeeeaaaaah. Honestly, any reasons I would say for the unintentional hiatus will probably sound like excuses, but do know that I apologize. I feel horrible about the wait, I really do - I would like to thank everyone for your continued patience, support, and comments. Writing is hard! 3 Just when I thought I'd never get this story fleshed out and the chapter completed, I'd get an email notification, and your interest in this story is really, really meaningful to me. So thanks!
> 
> School got busy, health got worse, but that's all water under the bridge, doing better now - suffering is art, and so here is the continuation! I made it a bit longer than usual as penance for my sins ^-^ It's gonna get darker from here on out, and I wish I could tell you updates will be quicker, but at this point I'm not too sure :( I can assure you that you won't have to wait as long for the next chapter, though! So there's that :)
> 
> If you wish to keep yourself contented, I do have other Billdip projects going on right now, which can be found on my profile. Again, thank you all so much, I'll keep on keeping on, so long as you promise to do the same! <3


	10. A Boy is Reassured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erasing all your memories  
> Darling, they won’t go so easily  
> You know that I wasn’t just a space in your head  
> I am the flesh and bone and I bleed like the rest  
> ...Your tears are falling like snow

Dipper didn’t really remember what happened next. All he knew was his shaking hands in front of him as they swung in and out of his blurry vision. He must’ve been able to get up and leave the gym without suspicion, because when he could see again, it was startlingly white. Tiles. Porcelain.

…Oh, it’s one of these. Been awhile.

He was barely aware of his surroundings and made sure the cubicle door was locked before he started vomiting into the toilet.

_Jeez! You need to calm down!_

His throat was burning as bile tore up through it to splatter in the water. Eyes were squeezed shut, and he could feel tears being squeezed out of their corners. Every edge of his self was jagged and cutting and hurting and aching. A few sobs were being torn from his throat in addition to the vomit, and after long minutes of heaving into the bowl, the shaking started.

“He’s d-dead.” Dipper wasn’t aware he was speaking out loud, the mumble barely audible above that shaky and sluggish breathing that seemed to come only with heavy crying.

There was a silence in his mind – a fact he might’ve once been grateful for – but now his conscience’s absence was jarring. It felt wrong. He needed himself more than ever right now. Why was it gone? Was it disgusted in him, too? Did it leave thinking he needed space? But it wasn’t sentient, of course… It was his conscience. Where was his common sense? If he lost that, he’d lose everything.

Hands clenched into fists as Dipper desperately fought to even his stuttering and unsteady breaths, and nails that were bitten down to the quick still somehow managed to dig sharp crescent gouges into the meat of his palms. The pressure increased, as did his tenuous hold on his mounting panic, until he relaxed his hands and saw the marks left behind.

It looked like eye slits. Like vertical eye slits, some oozing blood from the intensity of his own grip, each looking right at him. Every one just like that one time months ago he had seen himself being…

They looked just like…

_Hey, hey, hey. Don’t think about that right now. Don’t think about_ him _right now._

“How?” Dipper whispered out, the one syllable fighting to be audible over renewed racing breaths that was steadily turning into pure hyperventilation.

He couldn’t calm himself down, he never could, not even when he’d been a kid. Memories flashed behind eyelids screwed shut, the eyeballs behind them flicking around anxiously in a panic. His front tooth had fallen out and he had panicked so much he’d held his breath until he’s fainted to forget it all. Mabel had gotten an A on a science test and he had somehow gotten a C and his parents would’ve been so mad, so he’d climbed a tree and gotten stuck until he couldn’t even see the ground anymore; he’d entertained the idea of just jumping to make sure gravity still applied to him that high up.

He needed to do something now, just pass out, or… he needed to feel something – _anything._ It was all too much to handle, and he didn’t _want_ to handle it; didn’t _want_ to think about a corpse somewhere with a long last name that he felt guilty over, didn’t _want_ to breathe… He was useless and stupid and deserved this-

_What were you doing on your ninth birthday?_

No, n-no, not now, useless, can’t-

_Did you have a party? Were you and Mabel excited?_

…Yes, yes. B-But not right now, not when I-

_What presents did Mom and Dad get you? Was it your favourite flavour of cake?_

W-What? Why? I don’t un-underst-

_Your presents. Your cake. Hmmm, I’m betting a science kit and vanilla?_

There was a heavy silence at that, pregnant with a long moment that ticked by, each stroke marked by the hand heard on the school’s cheap clock hung just outside the cubicle on a cinderblock washroom wall. This didn’t exactly feel like the most ideal setting for reliving happier childhood memories…

_No answer? Guess I win, then._

But it was better than giving into mounting panic that threatened to breach the tenuous dam and consume him again at any second. “B-Bike.” Dipper mumbled. His gaze was trained immovably on the hastily scribbled graffiti someone had loosely scrawled on the metal cubicle divider, just above the toilet paper holder. It was a poorly drawn stick figure, doing a handstand. The speech bubble had been scratched out. Dipper felt the same. “…Carrot.”

_But you hate carrot cake!_

…Mom was on a health kick, remember? Mabel’d gotten her first cavity after that big Fourth of July binge. Science kit and vanilla was the year before.

_Ah, yes. You’re right._

“I w-win,” Dipper breathed out, his speech only hitching once. He was calming down again… It seemed almost too good to be true. Shakily, he wiped his palms on the cuff of his pants without looking at his palms. That’d just set him off again… With another heaving breath, he used his forearms to scrub at his face until it was relatively dried.

_Think you can flush the toilet? You’ll feel better once you do, Dipper. Out of sight, out of… Well, you know what I mean._

Fumbling fingers reached for the handle and pushed it down. Listlessly, Dipper watched the evidence of his anxiety and upheaved stomach contents disappear into the sewer system; and his common sense was right, as usual. He _did_ feel better. His head was slowly yet surely seeming to return to normal. And even though he’d never had an attack this bad in years, it still felt… Too good to be true, somehow. Usually it was worse and lasted longer.

_You’re not a kid anymore. That’s why. You’re capable. You’re okay. You’re_ good, _Dipper._

Yeah. I guess that makes sense. “I’m… good,” the boy breathed out, eyes flicking back to the hand-standing stick figure. A little shiver of happiness breezed through him at the affirmation, and his eyes slipped shut – not from self-inflicted lack of oxygen, but rather from mere weariness. This whole experience had been pretty draining, from the throwing up caused by the news with Mabel beforehand…

“Mabel,” he muttered, eyebrows furrowing in a frown, but the lids staying shut. He was supposed to tell her and their parents whenever things were too much for him to handle… he’d kept that promise for half of his life so far…

_Yeah, but you don’t need her anymore._

W-What? It’s my twin, of _course_ I need to-

_You need to accept that you did this all by yourself. Not your parents, not your sister, not any doctors. It was all you, Dipper. Be proud of that._

I _am_ proud… That’s why I need to tell her.

_Hmm._

Dipper’s common sense was quiet at that for a moment, but not glaringly absent like before. It curled like a cat by the fire in his mind, humming and purring around the edges comfortingly but still giving him room to think.

In fact, his head was clearer than usual. Dipper couldn’t help but wonder why, though the answer became obvious some seconds later when his gaze shifted to the tired linoleum floor. Brown eyes, some tears still clinging to their clumped lashes, widened imperceptibly in surprise at the sight.

Just as Dipper realized that his right hand had been loosely gripping the bow tie around his ankle, his conscience spoke again.

_I understand that, Dipper… But think about it logically, here._

Numb fingers held the fabric tighter, their pads swiping along its beautiful smoothness and calmness. When had one hand left its post to roll up his pant leg and grab the anklet?

_You’re on thin ice with your parents and sister right now. Would it_ really _be the best time to tell them you’re relapsing? …You do know where they’d put you, right?_

His hand jerked on its own to tighten into a death grip on the bow tie at that thought, knuckles turning white from the intensity.

_That’s right. And you—_ we _—don’t want that._

Dipper was silent, teeth chewing into his bottom lip with a worried frenzy.

_Yeah?_

“…Yeah.” His common sense was his common sense for a reason. It was right. His family didn’t need an excuse to send him away, not now. Not when he was getting better.

_Good. But you’re bleeding there, buddy. Best clean it up._

Automatically, Dipper’s tongue flicked out to lap up the blood that leaked from his chapped lips. The coppery tang went down his throat easily enough, and it was only then that he realized the taste of bile still sat heavy in his mouth. Thought the blood tasted better, it still didn’t quite drown it out, and once his lips had been sucked dry, he sighed out in a gust.

The marks left from his fingernails had thankfully more or less disappeared into obscurity, now appearing like normal scratches and not like…

_Why don’t we get up? I think the assembly’s over, anyway. You can just blend in with the crowd. Nobody will ever need to know what happened._

Sure enough, a distant rumbling could be heard from the gym as hundreds of pairs of feet shuffled out and back to the rest of the school. No doubt the principal would’ve outlined what’d be happening next, and the supports that’d be put in place.

A smaller, more timid part of Dipper felt like giving into basic fear again and sticking his head back in the toilet… But the boy prevailed. It was hard to let go of the bow tie, where his hand still stroked the universal material, but he managed to tear his hand away without too much disappointment at the lack of direct stimulation. He got to his feet with only minimal stumbling, unlocked the cubicle door and passed the sinks on his way to the exit. The clock on the wall kept ticking as he left, insurmountable in its solemn certainty, something Dipper wished he had. It read that over a half hour had gone by, and the brunet didn’t know whether that was good or bad news. Dipper refused to look at himself in the mirrors when he passed them, instead keeping a blank stare on the linoleum floor as he turned on a tap to rinse his mouth. When that was done, he waited by the exit door until a crowd could be heard on the other side of it as students in the hallway walked by, returning to their classes.

With a creak that was lost in the roar – more somber and hushed that usual, but still present – Dipper slipped out into the hallway to seamlessly enter the flow. Students are him didn’t even notice his readmission, and he managed to sidle to the tail end of his class just as they entered homeroom again. Someone’s eyes were on him, and he hoped it might be Mabel, but didn’t dare to look up as he slunk into his seat and stared at the faux wood grain pattern of the desk.

The rest of the day passed in a blur similar to the one that had overtaken Dipper in his blinding panic earlier, though thankfully time went by quick enough, and certain parts stuck out in his mind. Like the way students stood listlessly at recess instead of shooting hoops, or how their last period teacher had to be substituted by a secretary. He sat through countless lectures and reassurances from staff and faculty about how they’d be supporting the students through this troubled time; not that he didn’t care, of course, but quite the contrary.

_You care too much._

Yeah.

There were countless rumours flying back and forth between seats on the bus ride home. It was much emptier than usual, a lot of students using the opportunity to call parents and go home early. Dipper sat closer to the front where no others were, his backpack in the spot beside him to make it even clearer he wanted to travel alone. Mabel (not that he cared, of course) was chatting with a friend close to the back.

_Maybe it’s a good thing._

…A good thing?

If conscience’s had human forms, this one would probably be sitting on Dipper’s shoulder, biting its lip to keep a phrase spilling from the tip of its tongue. Something that couldn’t be taken back,

_Yeah, a good thing. I mean… Well, you never liked him. Nobody did. And for good reason!_

“You can’t be serious,” Dipper whispered, eyes widening and the sound pushed through shell-shocked lips. But his common sense paid no heed; it was on a roll now.

_He was horrible, though. Made everyone’s life hell. Nah, most importantly, he made_ your _life hell. Dipper, I’m just thinking_ rationally. _It’s what I do. I’m your common sense, you call me that yourself. This is_ you _thinking this; this is_ you _realizing the truth._

Against his control, tears were starting to prick on his hazel eyes again. “Shut up,” he hissed. “Just shut. Up.”

That must’ve been a bit louder than he intended, because the bus driver looked up to take a concerned glance at him in the large rearview mirror. Dipper somehow managed a smile, and the driver’s gaze returned to the road.

Under the surface though, the brunet was struggling to keep everything under control. His conscience had paused for a moment, but was back at it again now, coy and cloying tones seeping into his brain from the edges like an ink blot. It was all background noise, and Dipper fought to shove it away but to no avail, and his ankle itched, and was some of it actually starting to make sense?

_Things will be so much easier for you now, just think about it. Why get all worked up about someone kicking the bucket? Someone you hated?_

…Because they were human. They had a f-family, and a life, and-and—

_Oh, we both know that’s not true. Most humans aren’t good anyway. They’re not like you. You’re better._

Dipper felt a shiver run through him at the words. The bus pulled up to his stop, and he hitched his backpack on his shoulder, muttered a distracted thank you to the driver, and hurtled out onto the curb before Mabel could catch up from the back. His key worked the lock at record time, and he practically jogged to his room, slamming and firmly locking the door behind him.

Tears flying free now of the tremulous control he’d had over them in public, Dipper felt himself slid down the hard unforgiving wood until he skittered to a slump on the floor. Bright yellow sunlight was streaming in through the windows, illuminating his body, but even that wasn’t comfort enough.

Because his conscience was right. It did all make sense. Why should he waste energy on some stupid dead teacher? A part of him was screaming uselessly that the man didn’t deserve to die—nobody deserved to die—but it was quite rapidly getting swallowed up by the truths his common sense was providing.

…You’re not lying to me, are you? Can you even lie to me?

_Why would I lie? What could I possibly gain?_

“I’m okay, I’m good. I’m okay, I’m good.” The stuttering whisper was spoken like a mantra, as if the repetition could burn a tattoo onto his suddenly too thick tongue. Hands were twisting in themselves from his harried worry, wringing over and over in his lap.

Why would his common sense lie? Really… Really, it made sense when you thought about it. That was impossible, for a fragment—a nonexistent _figment_ —of himself to lie, when it was biologically wired to do the exact opposite.

His hand shot out to trace his ankle’s bow tie adornment, this time partially by his own knowing and will. He felt much calmer with that direct contact; much more able to ask one more time… Just one final vestige of himself that needed to be assured. Then it’d all be fine. He’d be okay again.

“Please… Y-You’re sure?”

The question hung there, in his room that was far too empty and far too full at the same time. He was alone, but not lonely. Not when his common sense finally answered him.

_Dipper, please. This is you we’re talking about._

The remaining, shrunken part of him that had been protesting vehemently winked out of existence at his conscience’s reply. Fingers played with the material draped so lovingly across his ankle. His breathing evened out, and the boy smiled in relief, nodding once, belief etched in his very core.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fgaVJmHrnNM
> 
> Hi everyone! So, it was only one month this time between updates, not two like before, aren't I just great?!?!?! :'D *wheezes weakly in shame*
> 
> I won't even tell you how busy my schedule is right now, but rest assured that I apologize. I'll be done the school year in a few weeks and updates are easier for me in the summer. Hope everyone's doing well! Thank you for everything, especially the comments - I LOVE receiving them so much?! It makes my day whenever I get a lil email, so thank you :')
> 
> In related news, I've been working on some more Billdip, which you can find on my Works page, and I have some more stories planned out too! So stay tuned~~ ^-^ Stay golden, friends, see you next chapter!!!


	11. A Boy on Samhain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Places, places, get in your places  
> Throw on your dress and put on your doll faces  
> Everyone thinks that we’re perfect  
> Please don’t let them look through the curtains  
> Picture, picture, smile for the picture  
> Pose with your brother, won’t you be a good sister  
> Everyone thinks that we’re perfect  
> Please don’t let them look through the curtains

“Bye Mom, bye Dad, I’ll be back in a few hours!” The excited call rang out through the house from the front door, amidst a few giggles. Dipper didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that Mabel was going out, even though he was hunched over a science textbook in his room. He also didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to realize his name was left out of the goodbye.

Don’t know why she’s going out. The test is this week.

_You’re much smarter, staying in to study. Your grades are so much better, too!_

Smiling at that, Dipper barely heard his parents’ well wishes and the wood slamming home from the foyer. A glance out his window revealed a gaggle of Mabel and her friends sprinting off down the street, glitter or sparkles adorning their costumes. The whole street was full of kids shrieking with laughter as they went door to door, some coming to his own, but he let his parents deal with that.

Halloween. It’d always been Dipper’s favourite holiday, but he was staying in this year. And he shouldn’t really be making a huge deal out of it – it was just some silly consumerist marketing grab, after all – but still. It was weird seeing Mabel dressing up and &ndra and not part of a pair like usual.

_Kinda stupid for you to go all out for it anyway. It’s not like you’re Gaelic. Or Christian… You don’t celebrate All Saints’ Day tomorrow, either._

“True,” Dipper murmured, a wry smile finding its way to his lips as he tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. It was growing out pretty quickly, fluffiness weighing down until it was near his chin. He needed it cut soon.

_Nah, I like it this length._

The brunet rolled his eyes, but tried to focus again on his science. It would be a hassle to go get it cut, anyway. And it hid his birthmark pretty well this length. Maybe another time. “You’re very chatty tonight.”

_I love Halloween, is all. It’s a great night._ His common sense paused for a moment, letting him finish reading the page in the textbook and scribble some notes in his workbook. _You’re the one making me talk, you know. You have a lot of mixed feelings about this holiday._

…I guess you’re right.

It laughed at that, prompting another smile to fill Dipper’s face where his expression had been somber before. _I always am!_

Tell me more about it, I need a break.

_Halloween?_

Yeah.

_Sure! Hmmmm… Well, it was called Samhain when it started. A Gaelic holiday, way back when. That was a time, let me tell ya! Some Druids did sacrifices and chants and everything. Real cool stuff. It was believed that all manners of creatures, living and dead and those in between, stalked the earth that night. So pagans started dressing up to blend in and not be targeted. Did a lot of other stuff, too._

I know all this; I’ve read it.

_Well, excuse me! I_ am _you, ya know._

Dipper rolled his eyes, but nodded for his conscience to continue, leaning back in his chair. _Well, it’s all a bit romanticized, I’m afraid. Nonetheless, people didn’t like it, and All Saints’ Day was shoved close to it to throw people off, basically. You know about that, Christians going on and on about Peters and Pauls and whatnot. Those saints are cool, too, but meh. That’s a different story._ His common sense turned thoughtful as it continued. _Real neat time, Samhain. Nowadays it’s all a candy grab, but you know that. Kinda lost its touch, eh?_

“Mhm,” Dipper hummed, his own thoughtful tone reflecting that one inside his head.

_Everyone used to believe it was a real “in between” time. Miss Shelley was talking about that in class the other day with Hamlet, wasn’t she? I forget._

Yeah, dummy. Some “l” word. Le? Li? …Something like that.

_Ha, as if you remember either, dummy._ His conscience chuckled. _You’re right, though. We’ll ask her sometime… She’s a much better English teacher than that old idiot, huh?_

Dipper definitely agreed, a smile even beginning at that apt description of ‘idiot’. “Yeah, much better.”

“What is?”

The teenager jumped, head whipping to his bedroom door. His mother was leaning against the frame, a bemused expression set on her face. “Mom, you scared me,” Dipper complained, a nervous laugh bubbling up at the end.

She remained silent, brow still slightly furrowed, simply entering the room to perch on the corner of Dipper’s desk instead. Dipper felt the toes on his left foot surreptitiously brush against his right ankle, where his favourite piece of fabric sat concealed. “W-Where’s Dad?”

“Handing out candy,” she answered, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the front door. She was biting her lips now, framing her words. “What’s much better, baby?”

Lie?

_Lie, yeah. You’ve got it._

Hurriedly, Dipper gestured at his science work. “Just something I’m studying for. I didn’t get it, but now I do, I was just saying it’s better now! That’s all.”

Mom’s frown remained, but didn’t appear as pronounced. “Sure, sure,” she muttered. A hand ran through her son’s hair in the pause following, rings clinking gently together at the motion. “This is getting long, baby. I’ll tell your dad to take you to the barber shop this weekend.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Dipper insisted, shooting her a smile. “I kinda like it like this.”

Her hand scratched gently behind his ears. “Well, whatever makes you happy, baby.”

Scrunching his nose, Dipper grumbled. “I’m not a baby, Mom.”

“Nah,” she whispered, a strained smile lighting up her face. Dipper wondered when her laugh lines started to give way to worry ones, and if her hazel eyes had always been that tired. “You’ll always be my baby boy.”

Dipper rolled his eyes and his mother laughed, a slender index finger tapping at his temple habitually before pulling back. They folded in her lap and twisted gently together, fingers tangling and untangling every few moments. “Are…” She sighed, eyes searching his face while her son waited patiently for her to continue. When she did, it was an echo of her words a minute earlier. “Are you… _happy,_ Dipper? Your father and I… Well.”

She huffed a breath up at a stray section of hair that always flopped in her face. Dipper had seen her do that thousands of times; Mabel did it, too. “Your father swears you’re okay, but… You know I hate you and Mabes duking it out.” When the hair stubbornly remained in her eyesight, she brushed it away. “And you’re teenagers now, I swear I get it, sweetheart, but still… I worry.”

“Mom,” Dipper said softly, pity settling in his heart.

Sighing, she waved him off, shaking her head. “No, no, don’t you worry about me. That’s not your job, baby. Your job is to be happy, and _my_ job is to get you there.” She looked him dead in the eyes, hands still wringing. “I told Al we shouldn’t have just… shipped you off to the middle of nowhere this summer. What parent can _do_ that? Stan’s great and all but… Well, you know your dad’s side, it’s always been a bit weird. Al said that was his rite of passage one summer, too… So I let you two go, and I worked overtime to get you and Mabes all ready for the b’nei, and then college in a few years, your father did too, but I just feel so _guilty_ … Because now you two are…”

“Mom,” Dipper tried again, gently cutting her off in one of her troubled pauses. She could keep rambling on and on all night if he didn’t. “I loved going to Gravity Falls this summer, I promise. Mabel did too! We can’t wait to go back next year.” At that, Mom looked ready to interrupt and protest, but Dipper didn’t even want to entertain the possibility he’d be denied that trip in the summer. That was a discussion for another day. “We’re just… I don’t know, we’re just arguing right now. You know how she is sometimes.”

Even though she was worried, his ruder phrasing didn’t stop Mom from shooting a sharp and disapproving look.

Dipper delicately tried again, sheepishly rubbing his neck. “How _we_ are sometimes. We’re pretty different, you know. We don’t get along all the time. But it always blows over.”

“You _are_ different now,” his mother sighed. Unable to resist, her hand shot out to cup Dipper’s face tenderly. “That’s what I feel sad about. I wasn’t there to watch you two start to… grow up, I guess.”

_Are you happy?_

Yes.

_Yes. You are._

I am.

“I may be a bit different now, Mom, but it’s nothing to be freaked out about. It was only a few months, you have plenty of time to keep watching us get older… And besides, I am happy!” Dipper’s assurances were still met with a slightly disbelieving look, but he pressed on. “I _promise._ Please try not to worry.”

There was a long pause, where almond shaped hazel eyes flitted across his face searchingly, but finally Mom nodded, worry more or less melting away. “Well, I won’t stop worrying,” she said wryly, fingers drumming against the side of his face, middle one tapping against his temple. “Since the day you were-”

“Born, yeah, yeah, I know,” Dipper finished jokingly. “You’ve told me that a million times before, Mom.”

His mother laughed, but shrugged. “Okay, you’ve got me. But be gentle with your mommy, first time I saw you, you were blue as a plum. That sticks with someone, you know, that and your first tooth fiasco and-” She cut herself off at her son’s look, hands moving to hold themselves up in surrender. “Okay, sorry, sorry. I’ll stop now! But how about this, baby. I’ll try my best to stop worrying, and you try your best to be happy… Think you can do that?”

_Definitely._

Dipper grinned. It wasn’t hard to do; he was happy, after all, just like he’d been for a while now. “It’s a deal, Mom.”

***

This is gonna be hard. I _hate_ stuff like this.

_Yeah, I know. Believe me, I know. But I’ll help you out, okay? It’ll be fine._

I… I don’t know.

_Hey, hey, it’s okay! Let breathe. Don’t freak out! It’ll be fine… Leave it to me. I’ll make it_ all _better._

“O-Okay,” Dipper breathed out. Steeling himself and with some positive encouragement from his conscience, his right hand finally curled into a fist to raise and knock on the painted wood.

“Come in!” Mabel’s bright voice chirped out, and Dipper gulped in some more oxygen before turning the knob and entering. “Oh.” His twin’s voice changed from bubbly to sullen in a syllable. “It’s you, Dipper. What’s up?”

Dipper took his time closing the door and facing it for a few seconds before turning around again. Mabel had really grown into her own space. Sharing a room with her for their whole life had only been a taste of what she could accomplish in her own, honestly. It was like stepping into a cotton candy machine, where pink painted the walls in a pretty pastel, that was mainly covered by yarn and glitter and artwork and posters. Her crafting supplies spilled over from where they were piled haphazardly on her desk, and her bedspread had all sorts of things sprinkled there, most prominently her purple pillowcase spilling with candy.

She was still in her Halloween costume, sitting cross-legged on her bed, taking all the bobby pins out. Upon Dipper’s entry, she paused though, her hands sitting in her lap. They looked uncannily like Mom’s had a few hours previous, twisting over themselves by force of habit, gaudy rings still adorning them.

“Did you… Have fun?” Dipper asked as an opener, wincing at his involuntary voice crack. That was one thing he certainly wouldn’t miss with all his changes.

Mabel scrunched her face up, apparently reluctant to make small talk. Or maybe she was reluctant with the whole conversation. Dipper could relate to that. “Yeah, the girls and I got lots of treats. They say hi.”

“That’s good,” Dipper muttered, shifting weight from foot to foot.

His sister sighed. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude here… But what do you want? You’ve barely talked to me for a week.”

Despite how he wanted to keep this civil and quick, being the better Pines, Dipper still felt a chord of anger strum through at her tone and sentence. “Yeah, well, you started that, Mabel. Just because I chose to do something different than you wanted me to. It’s not my fault you’re being a child about all th-”

“Don’t you _dare._ Call me a child, Dip.” Mabel cut him off, voice an angry hiss. “I think what we went through a few months ago gives me the right to stop you from ever calling me that.”

_It’s okay. You’re okay. Breathe… You’re fine._

Okay. Okay. Yeah. Okay.

_Want me to help now?_

Y-Yes.

“…Sorry,” Dipper croaked out, standing on his right leg. His left heel took the opportunity to reassuringly nudge against his right ankle, where his bow tie lay hidden by a sock

Mabel sighed, shaking her head. “…No. I’m sorry. That wasn’t cool of me.”

His common sense began to provide him with a script, amidst gentle murmurs of encouragement, and after letting the air be still and silent for a moment, Dipper began to repeat. “Mom’s worried, Mabel. I talked to her while you were out. She feels guilty, and doesn’t like us fighting… So I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I hurt your feel-feelings.” He came to a bit of an abrupt stop.

_What? I can’t say that!_

Yes, you can. And you will.

_Sh-She’ll still be mad, though! This won’t help anything!_

… _Trust_ me, Dipper.

“B-But-” The boy took a breath, and in that pause he met Mabel’s eyes, switching up from gazing at the floor. “I’m not… Not sorry about my d-decision.”

Mabel looked a bit taken aback at that distinction. She didn’t necessarily look mad though, which Dipper’s conscience pointed out gently. Dipper took deep breaths in through his nose as Mabel drew breath herself and spoke. “…Okay.”

_That’s it?_ His common sense sounded a bit miffed at the lackluster response. It quieted as Mabel continued though, her voice small.

“I forgive you. And I’m sorry, too. I wasn’t being fair, expecting you to just come with me. You didn’t really want it on Summerween, you didn’t want it this time… And I hate arguing with you. So…” She sighed, but offered a sheepish smile. “Are we good?”

We’re good.

“Yes,” Dipper answered her, another genuine smile making its way onto his face. He felt glorious relief at this. It actually worked? They were okay?

_Mabel’s been tired of this, too,_ his conscience piped in as answer, reassuring Dipper gently. _It’s not natural for you Pines to be this separated from each other, I see that now. You did so good, Dipper. You were amazing; you’re making everyone happier._

His twin’s smile became more genuine, too, and they both knew that things were okay now, in the way siblings seemed to know. Call it making up for their mom’s sake, or for their own, but either way… At least it was over with. “Definitely?”

Dipper laughed, and Mabel joined in. She patted a spot next to her on the bed, shoving things off as Dipper picked his way over carefully. “Absolutely,” he promised, and she punched his arm lightly.

“Dork,” she laughed. “Help me sort through my candy, Dipping Sauce. If you’re lucky, I might just let you have some, how about that?!”

“Yeah, you better,” Dipper joked, and Mabel snorted in the most unladylike way as she pulled her pillowcase close to dump out the candy.

…Good?

His question was halting and hesitating, a half hour of chatting and bonding later. They’d sorted through her sweets, putting them into piles and began munching on them, with Mabel’s mouth currently full of an ungodly amount of caramel.

But still… He _needed_ to know. His right ankle felt pleasantly warm and tingly as Mabel tried to speak animatedly, and he grinned.

_Good, Dipper._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G3XSo4a5TUQ
> 
> Well, well! Been a while. School's let out for the year now for me, so hopefully I'll be able to update more on the summer, amidst my job and online courses and stuff. Thank you everyone for your continued theories and support! They keep me motivated :)
> 
> I think one of you commented how ambitious this story is, and omg that completely sums it up?! The reason my chaps typically take so long is because I want to get them to a certain length for y'all, and because each chapter is super important to the story! Thanks again, everyone, I appreciate all of you so much - whether it be kudos, bookmarks, tumblr convos, or comments. Have a good weekend!! <3


	12. A Boy Says a Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And when we first came here  
> We were cold and we were clear  
> With no colors on our skin  
> 'Till you let the spectrum in
> 
> And when we come back we'll be dressed in black  
> And you'll scream our names aloud  
> And we won't eat and we won't sleep  
> We'll drag bodies from their graves
> 
> Say my name  
> And every color illuminates  
> We are shining  
> And we will never be afraid again

The new year dawned cool and uneventful. The Pines were staying in this year, without any guests, and after such a long year, it was an unspoken and unanimous decision.

“Three! Two! One!”

The ball touched home and fireworks went off. It seemed as though things were finally moving forwards.

_For the better._

Dipper smiled at the thought, as his parents kissed a moment later, and Mabel wooted at them wildly. He was wondering what that would be like. On the TV screen, smiling newscasters shook hands with celebrities; the confetti and streamers and fireworks blinding in Hollywood.

Things were shaping up to be better, it was true. He had been doing well in school, Mabel was being tentatively normal with him again, his parents had been breathing a sigh of relief around him, he’d been talking to his friends and family from the Falls recently. Hanukkah had been as fun as always; he’d seen his grandfather and some other cousins, though Stan had declined yet another year. Ford was somewhere in Europe, last he’d written. Nonetheless, the holiday had been filled with typical cheek pinching and loudness, both sides of the family gossiping back and forth. A new baby had been born on his mom’s side up in Ohio, Doda Josephine wasn’t doing very well at all for some reason the doctors couldn’t quite figure out, one of Shermie’s distant cousins had moved to Florida.

Although Dipper had hated this sort of familial drivel in the past, this year was different. It was… _interesting_ to see how they played a part in his life. How little they really occupied his thoughts. How the company they made was distracting enough when they occasionally met, but not very substantial. He’d never really been close to his extended family, and though it was something he was dealing with, his conscience was there to pick up the slack.

In fact, his common sense was the only thing picking up his slack sometimes.

_Not that I mind._

The voice was a purr in Dipper’s mind, and he felt himself smile almost shyly.

Thanks.

_Don’t mention it… You are_ worth it, _Dipper Pines._ A quiet murmur, that time; sincere and sure. _Worth everything._

Dipper’s eyes were downcast now, but crinkling in pleased embarrassment.

_So. Any resolutions?_

Just… Be _better,_ I suppose.

_Admirable. I commend you._

“Don’t tell Mom,” Mabel whispered, elbowing him.

Dipper started. His sister had appeared beside him, taking exploratory sips out of a half-full champagne flute. She winked at his expression, chin gesturing to where their parents sat eagerly distracted, popping firecrackers and laughing.

“Lips are sealed,” Dipper promised, tapping his nose.

Mabel held the glass up in salute, offering him a sip. “Tastes pretty disgusting, to be honest,” she confided, shrugging when Dipper declined.

“Then why drink it?”

“I don’t know.” Mabel paused, now frowning instead of smiling at the sparkles sheathed in the delicate glass. “I guess people do disgusting things when they grow up.”

There was a pause at that, filled only with the sound of roaring cheers coming in raucously, cracked and tinny through the TV speakers. Mabel wasn’t smiling anymore. She set the champagne flute down, hand sending barely visible tremors through the drink. Dipper saw her eyes widen.

He reached out a tentative hand. “Mab-”

“I’m going to bed!” she announced brightly in interruption to the room, looking past Dipper to their parents. They broke apart to let out exclamations of disbelief. “Love you, Happy New Year,” Mabel continued cheerfully, softly but firmly ignoring them.

Mom pressed kisses to her forehead. “Aw honey, you have a good sleep! Nice was to start off the year, eh?”

Mabel just nodded, a set smile stretched wide on her face. After receiving a hug from Dad, too, she left; Dipper just barely caught her lingering gaze on the glass before she swished out of the room.

_A shame._

Huh?

_She never wanted to grow up._

I… Guess she didn’t.

_Didn’t want to? Or didn’t grow up at all?_

Huh? Everyone grows up.

_You’re right, Dipper. They do._

Yeah?

_Yes. You’re right! You’re always right. After all… What kind of stupid person would deny that they’re growing up?_

Mabel’s not stupid. She’s my sister.

_Of course, Dipper! I meant it as a rhetorical question. No need to get worked up here._

Oh. Right.

_You’re confusing yourself, huh. Must be getting tired, aren’t you?_

Yeah... Yeah, I kinda am, come to think of it.

_Well, I forgive you, then. Why don’t we get some sleep._

Thanks.

_No problem!_

…I am sorry, you know. I didn’t… Didn’t mean to misinterpret what you said.

_No hard feelings! You’re a very smart boy, Dipper Pines. I’m sure you didn’t mean to._

I didn’t. I didn’t.

_Exactly! And you learn from your mistakes, smart guy! It won’t happen again, I’m sure._

Right.

_Now say good night and let’s get you off to bed!_

“I’m going to bed now, too.” He pulled his hand away from the tie around his ankle. Dipper’s voice sounded a bit strange… He was so used to talking inside his head nowadays, he forgot how similar yet strange it sounded as a physical voice, subject to cracks and pauses to breathe in between. He smiled as his parents chorused their goodbyes, and it was genuine. “Good night!”

His dad had been starting to clean up, and looked over to give Dipper a distracted hug. “Happy New Year, son!”

Dipper rolled his eyes as he accepted an affectionate hair ruffle. His mom smiled, stepping in to press a long kiss to his forehead. “Night, baby. You have sweet dreams.”

“I will.”

_You will._

***

Dipper had chosen his courses for high school, after much deliberation. Electives had to be engaging and stimulating, setting him on track for college. Some of the programs he was looking into looked at all high school grades, not just the ones right before graduating – he had to make sure every school day counted.

As for right now, though, he’d been studying for the last few months he had left in middle school. His scheduled days fell into the stressful yet strangely comfortable pattern of homework sheets and test studying, highlighter marks and pencil scratches. He’d always been good in school; he’d always been smart. He was flying along where Mabel only walked.

_It was good to be competitive,_ his common sense had told him in January. It was right, as always. Things were coming into focus – he’d be out on his own in a few years. High school would gift him with responsibility, college with hard-earned freedoms. It was tiring to be treated as a child. Exhausting, even.

“You’re thirteen, baby,” his mother told him one afternoon, a bit worriedly. “Your father and I are so proud of you, but remember… School isn’t everything!”

Annie Pines was right, of course. School wasn’t everything…

_But knowledge is._

That wasn’t to say Dipper was completely antisocial. That’d be stupid, after all. He loved his family. He cared for them, and wanted to be a worthy Pines. He spent time with them; they ate dinners and went on walks and watched movies on the weekends. Mabel didn’t hang out with him as much anymore, but that was normal. And besides, that’s what summers were for.

_Summer_ , his common sense piped in dreamily.

Dipper snorted in amusement. He was bent over his English homework, doing an essay for extra credit. Sometimes his regular homework wasn’t enough; he wanted to make sure he was getting ahead.

_What’s so funny?!_

You.

_Hardee-har-har._

“Pft.” His conscience kept him going. It was nice to be in his empty room, enjoying the yellow sunlight slating through the blinds on a bright afternoon, where he could do as he pleased and not have questioning looks shot his way if he accidentally answered aloud.

_Summer’s getting closer, isn’t it?_

“Mhm.” Summer was great, honestly! It meant time off to relax and read what he wanted to. To solve mysteries back in Oregon; gaining knowledge and cracking codes and ciphers and-

_Oh boy._

I- I can’t believe… I forgot? I forgot about… About…

_Shhhhhh. Dipper, you’re fine. Unclench your hands._

B-But, I-

_Unclench your hands. You’re hurting yourself._

“Ah,” he hissed out when he glanced down. That was true… Nails were digging crescents into his palms from his tightly wound fists. He jerked his hands open, seeing that they were all red, some oozing pinpricks of blood already.

_You’re fine._

“I…”

_You. Are. Fine. Repeat._

“I’m f-fine…”

_Good._

…Good?

_Good, Dipper._

“Y-Yeah. I’m fine… Thanks.”

_Feeling better?_

Mhm. Better. Feeling better.

_What made you feel better?_

“W-What?”

_Stop staring at the wall and look at yourself. What’s making you feel better?_

“I… Don’t kn-” His already stuttering whisper ground to a halt as he tore his gaze away from the pretty patterns of yellow light on the wall. One hand was holding his cheek soothingly, the other had pulled his leg up to touch the tie on his ankle. “Oh.”

_Don’t be like that!_

I’m not… being like anything. Am I?

_This is great news!_

“W-What is, I-”

_Don’t interrupt me, okay? I wasn’t finished!_

“Sorry,” Dipper mumbled. His thumb was petting softly against the swimming black fabric tied against himself. He could feel his other hand move to sweep some escaped tears away.

_I forgive you. No need to answer until I let you, okay? You just listen to your conscience for now. What I was trying to say, before you interrupted me, is that you need to look at this logically! Hard facts dictate that calming yourself down is a good thing, right? Of course right. You’re helping yourself out. That’s an amazing thing to do, Dipper. You knew to listen to your common sense… You automatically knew to do something to help you out. Isn’t that the truth? Why don’t you tell me if that’s the truth?_

Yeah…

_So it is the truth? Let’s not mince words, here. You can repeat after me._

It’s the truth.

_You positive? Let’s hear it one more time._

It’s the truth.

_What a smart man you are, Dipper! It is the truth, you’re so very right… Just like you’re right about using whatever you can to calm yourself down. Do you see what I mean?_

I… Think so.

_Well, then, perfect! Let’s think here. Something made you panic, so you listened to your common sense and did something else to calm you down. What did you do to calm yourself down?_

I…

_You can say it! It’s okay._

“I touched my bow tie.”

_Exactly! Although… it’s not really yours, now is it?_

N-no… It’s- it’s…

_No, no, no, no, no… We’re calm, remember? We’re not freaking out, Dipper. Let’s stay calm. Remember, we said we’d think about this logically. Am I right?_

You’re… Always right.

_Correct. Can I say his name though?_

“His… His name?” Dipper’s voice was a croak.

_You know who I’m talking about._

“Please don’t.” Dipper’s hand was working more rapidly now across his face, racing to catch the falling tears.

_You’ll feel better if I say it. You’re a smart boy; no need to deny something. Only idiots deny the truth. Only stupid people hide from it._

That’s true.

_Mhm. Why don’t we say it together?_

N-N-No, I-

_No ifs, ands, or buts, Dipper. We’re fine. Let’s say it._

“B-” Dipper’s other hand clenched his bow tie, and he felt at an impasse. Pressure was building up in his head – he needed to get over something, to say something, to be something. He was at a crossroads, like he was stuck figuring out a new math theory; he just needed for something else to click. “Bi-”

_You’re trying my patience, Dipper. Say it, or you aren’t listening to your common sense. I don’t stay in places I’m not listened to._

“Bill Cipher!” Dipper gasped out, the loudest words he’d spoken all afternoon, feeling like a dying man struggling to get oxygen into his lungs.

_Oh, Dipper! So smart! What a good boy!_

…But Dipper barely registered the sentiments of praise from his conscience. So great was his calm, now… He felt so much better… It clicked, now. “It clicked…”

_I’m glad to hear that! There, you see? That wasn’t so scary, now was it?_

No…

_Feels good to listen to your common sense!_

Yes…

_Now that we’re not scared of a silly name anymore, let’s look at the facts again. You list them out for me, okay? You’re the smart one, after all._

“Bill…” Dipper trailed off; his gaze got caught on both hands resting gently atop the bow tie now. His conscience waited patiently. “I didn’t need anyone else’s help. I… I calmed down. And I listened to you. Bill Cipher gave me this bow tie. It makes me feel… B-better, for some reason.”

_That’s right._

“And… That’s okay, though. Because I have you. Because it…”

_Because it helps you be better._

Yes.

_Because I say it helps you be better._

…So, I… I don’t need to be scared of him, anymore?

_Of who? Let’s be specific, Dipper. He’s not here. It’s okay. You’re okay._

Bill… Bill Cipher.

_Yes. You’re right. So very right, Dipper Pines._

I don’t need to be afraid of… Bill Cipher anymore.

_It seems like the most plausible conclusion, based on the facts, doesn’t it?_

“But that can’t make sense!” Dipper’s outburst charged out of him like a rocket. He launched to his feet, caught off guard by how vehement it sounded in his mouth. He was on a roll now, though. “He… He did horrible things! Horrible! I… I hate him!”

His conscience’s voice was soothing. Placating. _Yes, you hate him. Dipper, that’s fine… But there’s no need to fear him._

“I’m…” He trailed off, frowning. He had been pacing in circles across his room, walking in and out of sunlight patches, but he lurched to a stop. “I’m so… Confused…”

_I can see I’ve bombarded you._

No… N-No, it’s not you, I just can’t-

_Forget I said anything._

But-

_Dipper, we’re fine. The important thing is that we know how to calm yourself down now, right?_

But-

_The important thing. Is that we know how to calm yourself down now. Right?_

R… Right…

_You’re not ready to think of everything yet. You’re not old enough! But that’s fine._

I promise I’m ready, I just don’t think-

_It’s okay, Dipper. You’re tired. We don’t have to think about him. Let’s just focus on how much better you feel._

“I do feel better.” That was true – he was calming down, now. He had stopped himself from making gouges in his hands. Did it… Did it really matter who it had come from? He was listening to his common sense. His common sense was, by literal definition, never wrong. His conscience helped him feel better.

_You’re not ready._

I’m… I guess I’m not. Not ready.

_There’s wisdom in admitting you need to go slowly. You’ll get there, I have no doubt. You’ll be ready someday._

“My head hurts.” Dipper felt better, but his brain ached. He’d calmed down, though. He was fine… He was just…

_Tired?_

Yeah.

_Time for bed?_

N-no, I don’t want to, I-

_Let’s go to sleep._

Sleep?

_Mhm._

…Okay. Yeah. Let’s go to sleep.

_So smart to see sense, Dipper! It’s okay, it’ll all be better in the morning._

Yes. Better.

_Perfect! Let’s get you changed, cleaned up, and into bed._

“Okay,” he breathed out. His eyelids were growing heavy… It must’ve been from all the studying. Surely he’d be fine taking a short rest. He deserved it.

_Look at yourself in the mirror. You need to clean up._

Dipper looked almost ghostly in the glass in his room. Things looked bright and hazy; the sunlight reflecting and refracting alongside his reflection, blurring all the sharp and gaunt edges. With a start, his eyes caught sigh of his face and saw red stripes along there.

“Wh-”

_Your hands. Only because of your hands… Remember?_

“Oh.” He held his hands up to his face to take a look; sure enough, a few of his nail marks had just started to crust over the blood he had scratched out earlier. Methodically, he licked them clean, and scrubbed his wrists over cheekbones and forehead to wipe it off his face.

_All clean! Good job._

Thanks.

_You’re welcome! Shirt off, let’s get ready for bed._

Stumbling fingers struggled with his button-up, but eventually Dipper managed to shrug it off. It slid to the floor and gathered in a heap.

_Perfect._

Dipper didn’t feel perfect. He looked pale and scrawny, washed-out with all the yellow light surrounding him; his breaths were slow but large, coming in great gusts of air that moved his bare chest up and down rhythmically.

_Missed a spot, though._

“…Beg your pardon?”

_On your noggin! Missed a spot._

Squinting, Dipper realized what his common sense meant. He lifted his bangs and found a streak of red blood still there; the last of it lingering on his face. Licking a thumb, he pressed it there and wiped it away off his birthmark.

“All good?” His question wasn’t just in regards to the blood. He think his common sense realized that – realized that Dipper wanted confirmation that everything else was good, too.

_All good._

His conscience was proud and gentle, a soft croon against his tired and aching brain. Dipper nodded gratefully and got ready for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iC-_lVzdiFE
> 
> Hi all! I promise I'm not giving up on this story! I appreciate all the kudos and comments much more than I can ever say - I've been tempted to delete, but you let me stay motivated enough to keep coming back :) I'm sorry it takes so long! Life's got me busy, but it's nice to know you've all got my back.
> 
> Things are getting pretty intense, huh? :P I really appreciate everyone taking time to comment - I'll try to continue it as soon as I can!!! Many hugs from me and confusion from this story I'm giving to you, as well as my gratitude :)


	13. A Boy Returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O, do you want my bones between your teeth?  
> They pulled me half-alive out of the sea  
> Apart, apart  
> And dancing on  
> Impossible, impossible
> 
> I feel as if I've been where you have been,  
> I feel as if I've been where you have been

“Now, you be safe, honey, okay?”

The parking lot was crowded and bustling; people coming and going between the big buses and their cars, luggage in tow. Summer heat was making the asphalt warm underneath their feet as the Pines said farewell for the summer.

“Mom,” Mabel complained, sticking out her tongue as their mother peppered her forehead in kisses.

“Sorry, sorry,” she muttered, sneaking in one more peck before straightening up. Mabel winked, rubbing the lip gloss off her forehead.

Dipper received his mother’s goodbyes with much more grace as his father glanced at his watch. “You two call us as soon as you get there, all right? I don’t know why you don’t want us to drive you this year, I have the time now…”

“It wouldn’t be the same, Dad,” Dipper said again – for the fifth time – reasonably.

_And everything’s better if it’s the same._

“And it’ll be better this way, since it’s the same,” he repeated. “Stan’s gonna pick us up at the bus station once we get there. Mabel and I will call as soon as we get in.” Mabel nodded her agreement enthusiastically, double-counting the number of paintbrushes she was bringing.

_Good._

Dipper smiled at the praise, though it also seemed to have the effect of placating his father.

His parents still exchanged a glance though when Mom stood again, biting her lip. “You’re… sure, baby, that everything’s all right up there?”

What’s she mean by that?

_Steady, kid._

Swallowing, Dipper tried to breathe normally and listen to reason. “W- What do you mean?”

She was fiddling with the ring on her finger, spinning it around and around. “Up in Gravity Falls, baby. Everything’s all right with…” She paused, choosing the name delicately. “Stan?”

“It’s the Stan you know, Mom, of course everything’s gonna be fine,” Mabel piped in encouragingly.

“Yes, but what about the…” Their father looked uncomfortable as he took over the questioning. “The… other one?”

The conversation moved on, sounding almost identical to the one that had been happening over the past week or so. Their parents were still trying to come to grips with more than one Stan, after all, it was understandable, but still…

_See, Dipper? They’re not talking about you. You’re fine, yes? You’re okay?_

I’m… I think I’m okay.

_Wasn’t very nice of Annie to make it sound like she was asking how you’re doing up here, huh? You’re peachy keen up here in your noggin. Bright, beautiful mind like yours._

I’m sure Mom didn’t mean i-

_Shh, you’re okay. It’s alright now. You’re not going to have to deal with them now for a good few months._

That does sound… Nice, I guess.

_Mhm. Sure does._

And, you said… You said everything will be fine when I get up there, right?

_Oh, my friend, I promise you that-_

“Dipper?”

Dipper started, blinking his mother’s face into focus as she leaned down again near him. She looked worried. His common sense buzzed discontentedly at the interruption. Meanwhile, his sister had seemed to assuage Dad’s worries once more, and they were starting to take the luggage out of the car. Dipper’s breath was still a bit shaky as he inhaled before speaking. “S-Sorry, I-”

“You don’t have to go, baby. Just say the word. If you’re not up to it, or don’t feel well, or think that-”

_I’m fine._

“I’m fine! Mom, really, I-”

“But Dipper-”

_I said I’m fine._

“I said I’m fine.”

She was brushing his bangs now, about to tap at his temple agitatedly. “You say that, baby, but I worry that you might still be-”

_I think you should shut up._

“I think you should sh-” Dipper’s eyes widened as he cut himself off, and his own mouth snapped shut abruptly. “Should…” The rest of his words were choked out in a squeak. “Should try not to worry, Mom.”

There was a strained moment, and Dipper wondered if Annie Pines was really one to let this go. If she would really believe him. She was frowning, biting her lip, tapping his temple, looking so much like Mabel in that instant that it made Dipper’s heart pang and wonder if he ever fit with his parents as well as he should.

_Do you, Dipper?_

He distantly heard his sister crack a joke that caused their father to laugh while the trunk slammed shut.

Another beat passed, but finally his mother’s face softened. “If you say so.” She pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead one final time that felt like forever, before drawing back. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Mom,” Dipper croaked out.

She hummed with a sense of finality, ruffling his hair as she passed to hoist up some of the luggage and start tugging it toward their bus. “Come on, Al, or else they’ll be late,” she reminded over her shoulder.

Dad called back in agreement, playfully hip checking Mabel as he passed with his own armload of bags. Snorting, Mabel picked up half of the remaining pile, and waited for Dipper to stutter out of his stupor and pick up the last of it. “What’s got Mom looking like that?”

“Nothing,” Dipper mumbled evasively, walking a bit faster to outpace his sister. His common sense chirped its motivation, but Dipper just felt a headache coming on.

We need to talk.

_We are talking, Dipper._

Y-You can’t make me say stuff like that.

_Like what?_

You know what I’m talking about… You can’t… Can’t…

_Can’t?_

Th-Throw me off like that.

_Shush, now. Your father’s looking at you._

“Have a safe trip, Dip,” Dad said brightly, tousling his hair as Dipper reached the bus and piled the luggage in. An overworked driver gave a sigh before beginning to straighten the bags properly in the space underneath.

Dipper smiled. He was still excited, in spite of everything. “Thanks, Dad. We’ll keep in touch, don’t worry.”

_And look out for Mom._

“Oh, I will, son,” his dad answered. Had Dipper even said that out loud? He couldn’t… remember… “She’s just nervous you’re going out of state again. She’ll get over it quick.”

All too soon, the twins were climbing the stairs and waving out the window at their parents below. Only a few other passengers were scattered on the bus, paying them no attention. The driver closed the doors, sat down, started the engine.

Al and Annie Pines were waving goodbye, with her head on his shoulder and one of his arms around her waist.

Mom looks so…

_Plaintive._

Yeah.

The bus pulled away from the station and started heading north towards Oregon.

In no time at all, Mabel had popped in her headphones and a stick of bubblegum, blowing pink orbs out from her mouth in time with the music that could still be heard. Her fingers twiddled around themselves, and it looked like Mom’s. Dipper’s headache seemed to be getting worse, so he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window. He could feel Mabel’s gaze on him, though. She kept glancing at Dipper, brown eyes assessing, but never pressed what must be on her mind.

_That’s smart of her._

We need to talk.

_What now, clever boy? I know what you’re going to say… I_ am _you, after all. I thought we’d dropped this. It’s pointlessly redundant to continue, don’t you think?_

Just-

_…Yes?_

Just. Promise me you won’t trick me into saying anything horrible like that again. To Mom. O-Or to _anyone_ , for that matter. I don’t wanna do anything like that; I don’t wanna get into any trouble…

_Dipper._

Plea-

_Dipper. Listen to me. You’ll do that, right?_

I… I just need you to-

_Right?_

…Right.

_You know me… I’ve helped you this year, haven’t I? …Oh, come now, don’t be like that, answer me when I ask you a question. Yes or no._

O-Okay.

_Mmm. I’ve helped you, haven’t I?_

Yes.

_There’s no need to overthink things; not with me, Dipper. I won’t ask that of you. I’ll never ask you to do anything you don’t want to do. Isn’t that right? Have I ever made you do anything bad?_

Well, I mea-

_Dipper._

N-No. No, you haven’t.

_Precisely! Dipper, you seem to be forgetting one very crucial thing here – I’m inside you. Ergo, I_ am _you. Do you understand?_

Yes… You’ve told me this.

_I have. And I’ll continue to tell you until you don’t need to be told anymore. I’m not going away, Dipper. I’m yours – I’m you. I’m here for you. Everything I’m telling you is just your own self thinking it. That’s something to embrace, not be afraid of._

My head hurts.

_I know, Dipper. It’s hard to trust someone._

It is, isn’t it.

_Sure is._

“Mabel,” he mumbled, creaking an eye open. His sister jerked, eyes swinging away from his face in an instant, trying to appear as though she hadn’t been staring.

“Y-Yeah, Dip?” Her voice was bubbly as she popped out an earbud.

“I’m gonna take a nap. Do you mind moving so I can stretch out?”

Her bright expression seemed false and frozen on her face. “Actually! I thought we could… Talk.”

Dipper swallowed, and his throat clicked. Music was still audible out of Mabel’s ear buds, and she turned it off in the ensuing awkwardness. Her throat worked as she swallowed her gum, obviously not wanting to be distracted by blowing bubbles. She seemed to be trying to think and put the words in the right order.

_Talk._

“Talk?”

“Yeah, Dipper. Talk.”

“…About what?”

A humourless breath whooshed out through Mabel’s teeth. “It doesn’t have to _be_ about anything. We never talk anymore.”

Dipper frowned. “Sure we do, Mabel. We talk every day.”

He could see his sister grind her teeth, staring studiously down at her clasped hands. A moment beat by, until her eyes met his. “Yeah. You’re right; we do. We’re… fine.” It sounded more like a question. Her gaze seemed pleading.

One of Dipper’s hands tangled up in hers. “Of course we are, Mabes. We’re the Mystery Twins.”

_An inseparable pair, it would seem._

“Dipper…” Mabel’s unfinished sentence hung in the air between them. Her hand grasped his more tightly. There was one particular thing she seemed to need to talk about. “I… Hope this summer will be better than the last one. I hope that… He’s…”

_Ah._

“Who?”

Mabel winced at the question. “ _Bill_. I hope that Bill isn’t going to ruin anything.”

Months ago, that very syllable had caused Dipper to freeze in fear. But in that instant, he felt his conscience puff up in pride when he barely blinked an eye at the name.

“Mabel, I’m going to protect you. Gravity Falls is going to be fine. Bill can’t do anything, especially not when we’re there.”

Her eyes stared blankly ahead, at the headrest of the seat in front of them, where it was grey and fuzzy with colour coded zig zags neatly patterned. “I’ve had… Dreams, Dip. N-Nightmares.” Mabel’s voice was hollow as she confessed it in a whisper.

_Interesting. Careful, now._

Dipper frowned. “Me… too,” he began carefully, feeling worry begin to set in. He felt Mabel’s hand shake in his. “What kind of dreams?”

“I-I don’t know. They’re weird ones, filled with symbols and letters I don’t understand… Dark gold, burned gold, always _gold_ … And I- I always have the strangest feeling when I wake up, like I’m… Forgetting something so very… _Important_ …”

“Mabel,” Dipper mumbled soothingly, throwing his arms around her shoulders and embracing her close. He was starting to feel like he’d forgotten something, too.

She sighed. “I’m fine, I guess. I don’t get them that often. I’m just a bit nervous that it’ll get worse when we go back. I’m worried that…”

_Yes?_

“That _we’ll_ get worse when we return.”

Dipper had always been the better thinker, as awful as it was to say – and he’d been thinking about the logistics of returning to Gravity Falls, returning to Bill, for months now. He’d been planning and calming himself for a long time, shutting himself up deep in his head and thinking about it all… Whereas it appeared that his sister was only starting to comprehend what it actually meant now, mere hours before they reached their destination.

“Cipher did mess us up pretty bad…” Dipper began, feeling Mabel nod into his shoulder. “But… We’re better now, Mabes. We’re stronger. You’re still you, and I’m… I must still be me.”

“You said that once, sometime, somewhere,” Mabel pronounced, and finally drew back with a shuddering sigh, wiping away the beginnings of tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. “You promised that you’d be better, Dip-Dop. And you have been… Or it seems like you have been. But, that stint with you in the hospital and the start of school last year? That was… Really scary.”

Dipper smiled softly, repeating the words his common sense supplied easily. “Mabel, I’m better now. I’m… _good_. Would I lie to you?”

Mabel smiled. It was watery and a little unsure, yes, but it was genuine. And Dipper appreciated that. It was hard to trust someone.

Hours passed; landmarks and interesting vistas flying by beside the bus or in the distance, making Mabel snap pictures before they disappeared. Nobody was ever able to get a direct bus to Middle-Of-Nowhere, Oregon, so after a few stops and transfers, more bathroom breaks and shared moments between twins that Dipper had found himself missing, they were finally almost there.

There was still that niggling little worry in the back of his mind, though. Worry over Mabel, over something that he couldn’t seem to recall… Dipper unconsciously crossed his legs and rubbed at the bow tie fastened securely underneath his sock.

His conscience’s voice was a bright interruption to the dull vagueness of green forestry and foliage that bled together beside the road, becoming blurrier in the darkening sky.

_Ha! I know what you forgot._

You… Do?

_Yep! You didn’t pack that marigold. The one sitting in your bottom drawer back home, that you got as a gift last summer._

Too late now. Besides, I don’t need it.

_Mhm. Maybe you’ll get a new one this year._

“Maybe,” Dipper breathed out in weary agreement. His headache had vanished, especially now that he’d remembered what he’d forgotten. There couldn’t be anything else.

A sign whizzed by that welcomed them to Gravity Falls; and even though it wasn’t written there alongside the town name in bright paint, Dipper knew he was being welcomed back to Bill Cipher, too.

It was time for their deal to be upheld.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K4xGvhRcpzs
> 
> I feel as though it gets redundant apologizing every chapter end note for how long it takes the update to get published, but please realize that I am sorry for the wait! Thank you for sticking with me, though, and being so invested in the story :)
> 
> I am committed to finishing this though, so no worries! All your comments keep me going, so I thank you. Please consider leaving one if you like it, I promise you will make my day <3 Hope everyone has a great week!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you enjoyed it; you can find me at emberglows on tumblr as well :)


End file.
